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THOMAS  AND  MATTHEW  ARNOLD 

AND   THEIR   INFLUENCE   ON   ENGLISH 
EDUCATION 


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THOMAS  AND  MATTHEW 
ARNOLD 


THEIR   INFLUENCE   ON   ENGLISH 
EDUCATION 


SIR  JOSHUA  FITCH,   M.A.,  LL.D. 

FOEMEELY    HeE   MaJESTY'S    INSPECTOB   OF   TkAISING    COLLEGES 


(tTNlVERsiTT 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBXER'S    SONS 

1897 


f\TF6 


,  po'pyright,  1897.  by 
Charles  scribner's  sons 


KortoooB  lOrtSB 

.  Cuihing  &:  Co.  -  Berwick  «t  Smith 
NorwooU  Mam.  U.S.A. 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 

In"  the  Catalogue  of  the  British  Museuiik  Library,  there 
are  no  less  than  eighty-nine  entries  under  the  name  of 
Matthew  Arnold,  and  sixty-seven  under  that  of  his 
father.  These  entries  include  references  to  each  of 
the  several  editions  of  their  published  works,  whether 
books  or  pamphlets,  and  also  to  numerous  tracts  and 
essays  containing  criticism  or  comment  upon  those 
works.  They  do  not,  however,  include  the  large  num- 
ber of  reviews  and  articles  which  occur  in  the  periodi- 
cals and  dictionaries  of  the  time,  and  which  throw 
light  on  the  character  and  achievements  of  the  Arnolds. 
Of  the  abundant  literature  with  Avhich  their  names 
have  thus  come  to  be  associated,  much  is  occupied 
with  ephemeral  controversy,  and  with  incidents  little 
likely  to  interest  the  coming  generation  of  readers 
or  indeed  to  be  wholly  intelligible  to  them.  It  has 
seemed  to  me,  therefore,  that  as  both  men  have  ex- 
erted a  large  share  of  influence  in  forming  the  opinion 
of  the  country  on  educational  questions,  and  as  their 
lives  possess  peculiar  interest  for  those  who  are 
teachers  by  profession,  there  was  room  for  a  small 
volume  which,  without  professing  to  furnish  a  new 
biography,  or  a  new  theory  respecting  either  writer, 
should  essay  the  modest  task  of  bringing  together  so 
much  of  the  teaching  of  both  as  was  likely  to  prove  of 


IV  INTRODL'CTollV    NOTE 

permanent  value,  and  also  to  explain  and  justify  the 
honourable  position  the  Arnolds  occupy  in  the  history 
of  public  education  in  England  and  in  the  grateful 
memory  of  her  teachers.  I  can  claim  no  higher  quali- 
fication for  this  duty  than  is  implied  in  the  facts  that 
I  have  learned  some  of  the  best  lessons  of  my  life 
from  the  study  of  these  authors ;  that  as  a  colleague 
in  the  Education  Department  I  had  many  opportuni- 
ties of  knowing  Matthew  Arnold's  views  and  estimat- 
ing his  personal  influence;  and  that,  although  for 
different  reasons,  I  have  a  genuine  admiration  fur 
both  father  and  son. 

August.  1H97. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I  \ 

Difficulties  of  biography  —  How  Stanley's  Life  of  Arnold 
has  surmounted  them  —  Chief  incidents  of  Arnold's 
life  —  Influences  which  shaped  his  character  —  Ships 
and  warfare  —  Literary  revival  —  History  and  poli- 
tics—  School-boy  experience  —  Religious  doubts  and 
difficulties  —  Evidential  theology  —  His  intellectual  out- 
fit generally 


CHAPTER  II 

Residence  at  Oxford  —  Arnold's  friends  and  associates  — 
Mari'iage  and  settlement  at  Laleham  —  Life  as  a  pri- 
vate  tutor  —  Studies   and   literary  work  — .Aiius   and 
_^spiratiaus  —  Appointment  to  Rugby    ....       15 


CHAPTER   III 

-Rugby  and  its  foundation  —  Characteristics  of  ancient 
endowed  grammar  schools — Illustrations  from  statutes 
of  Archbishop  Grindal  and  Dean  Colet  —  The  theory 
of  classical  education  —  Milton  and  the  Humanists  — 
Example  of  an  entrance  examination  —  Arnold's 
schiime  of  instruclltm  —  Latin  and  Greek  not  useless, 
even  though  forgotten  in  later  life  —  Evils  of  mechani- 
cal routine  —  Composition  exercises  —  Versification  — 
Objections  to  it  —  School-boy  artifices  for  evading  it  — 


CONTENTS 


Construing  —  Bowyer  of  Clirist's  Hospital  —  Transla- 
tion—  Grammar  and  philology  means  not  ends  — 
Socratic  questioning —ilfineral  clianvcteristics  ol 
Arnold's  methods 


CHAPTER   IV 


Language  as  a  discipline  contrasted  with  natural  science 
—  Knowledge  of  physical  facts  not  the  only  science  — 
History  —  Relation  of  Ancient  and  Modern  History  — 
Its  claims  as  a  school  subject  —  Training  for  citizen- 
ship—  Example  of  a  school  exercise  —  Niebuhr's  re- 
searches in  Roman  History  —  Arnold's  own  treatment 
of  the  regal  period  of  Rome  —  His  love  of  history  in- 
fectious—  Geography  —  Tiioroughness  in  teaching  — 
Qualifications  of  assistants  —  School  organization  — 
Relation  of  a  head  master  to  governing  body    . 


52 


CHAPTER   V 

Arnold  as  a  disciplinarian  —  Moral  evils  in  school  —  De- 
scription of  their  danger  —  Mr.  Welldon's  picture  of 
school  life  —  Fagging  —  Luxury  and  idleness  —  Expul- 
sion—  Religious  lessons  —  Chapel  services  —  School 
sermons  —  Extravagance  —  Home  influence  —  Mental 
cultivation  a  religious  duty  —  A  memorable  sermon  — 
Religious  exercises  —  Corporate  life  of  a  great  school 
—  What  is  Christian  education  —  Clerical  schoolmas- 
ters—  The  influence  of  Arnold's  sermons  generally — 
Punishments  —  Study  of  individual  character  —  Games 
and  athletics  —  7'om  linnrn's  School  Days  — Uw^hy 
boys  at  the  Universities  —  Bishop  Percival's  estimate  . 


CHAPTER   VI 


Arnold's  extra-scholastic  interests— 'Why  such  interests 
are  necessary  for  a  teacher  —  Foreign  travel  —  Extracts 


CONTENTS 


from  diary  — Love  of  Nature  —  Intercourse  with  the 
poor  needed  by  himself  and  by  his  pupils  —  University 
settlements  and  mission  work  in  connexion  with  public 
schools  —  Politics  —  The  Reform  Bill  — The  English- 
man''s  Begister  —  The  society  for  the  diffusion  of  use- 
ful knowledge  — Mechanics'  Institutes  —  The  London 
University  —  Arnold's  attitude  towards  each  of  these 
enterprises 110 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  Oxford  movement  —  The  Hampden  controversy  — 
Arnold's  relation  to  the  movement  —  His  views  as  to 
the  condition  of  the  Church  of  England  and  of  neces- 
sary reforms  —  Dean  Church's  estimate  of  Arnold's 
ecclesiastical  position  —  The  Broad  Church  —  Influence 
of  outside  interests  on  the  life  of  the  schoolmaster  — 
The  ideal  teacher  —  Regius  Professorship  of  Modern 
History  —  Arnold's  scheme  of  lectures  —  Its  partial 
fulfilment  —  His  early  death  —  Conjectures  as  to  what 
might  have  been  had  he  lived  —  Mr.  Forster  and  the 
Education  Act  —  Testimonies  of  Dean  Boyle  and  of 
the  Times 135 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Matthew  Arnold  —  The  materials  for  his  biography  —  His 
wishes  —  The  main  facts  of  his  life  —  His  letters  —  His 
character  —  His  inspectorship  —  Distaste  for  official 
routine  —  His  relations  to  managers  -^  A  school  mana- 
ger's recollections  —  The  office  of  a  School  Inspector  — 
Its  opportunities  of  influence  —  The  Revised  Code  — 
Arnold's  methods  of  work  —  Testimony  of  his  assist- 
ant          157 


CONTENTS 


CIIAI'TEK    IX 


Arnold  as  an  officer  of  the  Education  Department — His 
official  reports  —  Inspection  and  examination  —  Forma- 
tive studies  —  Learning  of  poetry  —  Grammar —  Latin 
and  French  in  the  primary  school  —  Science  teaching 
&nd  Natnrkunde  —  Distrust  of  pedagogic  rules  —  Gen- 
eral aim  and  scope  of  an  elementary  school  —  The 
teacher's  personal  cultivation  —  Religious  instruction 
—  The  Bible  in  the  common  school  —  Arnold's  attempt 
at  a  school  reading-book  with  extracts  from  Isaiah  — 
The  failure  of  this  attempt 


ClIAl'TKK    X 

Matthew  Arnold's  employment  in  foreign  countries  — 
The  Newcastle  Commission  of  1850  —  The  Schools  In- 
quiry Commission  of  1805  —  Special  report  to  the  Edu- 
cation Departmint,  1885  —  Democracy  —  Relation  of 
the  State  to  voluntary  action  in  France  and  in  England 
—  Why  Germany  interested  Arnold  less  than  France  — 
Advantages  of  State  action  —  The  religious  difficulty  in 
France  —  Why  a  purely  secular  system  became  inevi- 
table in  tliat  country  —  A  French  Eton  —  Comparison 
with  tlie  English  Eton  —  Kiid.>wim'iits  uixltr  French 
law  —  Latin  and  Greek  as  taught  in  French  Lyc^es  — 
Entrance  scholarships  —  Leaving  examinations  —  In- 
struction in  civic  life  and  duties -*X) 


CHAPTER   XI 


Arnold's  views  of  English  society  —  Tlif  three  cla-sses, 
the  Barbarians,  the  Philistines,  the  Populace  —  Char- 
acteristics of  the  Philistine  or  middle  class  —  Why  his 
diagnosis,  though  true  in  the  main,  was  inadequate  — 
The  want  of  culture  among  Nonconformists  — Tlie  tlisa- 
bilitics  uiidtT  wliicli   tlicv  had  siiffcrt'd  —  A  stmni-t  — 


PAGE 


Illustration  of  the  difference  between  public  schools 
and  private  "  academies  "  —  Schools  for  special  trades, 
sects,  or  professions  —  Hymns — Effects  of  his  polemic 
in  favour  of  a  system  of  secondary  instruction      .         .     220 


CHAPTER   XII 

Arnold  as  a  literary  critic,  a  humorist,  and  as  a  poet  — 
Criticism  and  its  functions  —  Comparison  with  Sainte 
Beuve  —  Examples  of  his  critical  judgments  —  Homer, 
Pope,  and  Dryden,  Byron,  Wordsworth,  Burke,  Ten- 
nyson, Charlotte  Bronte,  and  Macaulay  —  The  gift  of 
humour  indispensable  to  a  critic  —  English  newspapers 

—  The  Tele  fir  apli  and  the  Times  —  His  American  ex- 
periences—  His  personal  charm  —  Tributes  of  Mr. 
John  Morley,  Aiagustine  Birrell,  and  William  Watson 

—  Poems  —  Arnold's  place  as  a  poet  —  Examples  of 
his  poems  —  General  estimate  of  his  own  and  his 
father's  services  to  English  education  —  Bugby  Chapel 


.ITNIVERSITT, 


THOMAS  AND  MATTHEW  ARNOLD 


CHAPTER   1     '•—'.- 

Difficulties  of  biography  —  How  Stanley's  Life  of  Arnold  has  sur- 
mounted them  —  Chief  incidents  of  Arnold's  life  —  Influences 
which  shaped  his  character  —  Ships  and  warfare  —  Literary  re- 
vival—  History  and  politics  —  School-boy  experience  —  Religious 
doubts  and  difficulties  — Evidential  theology  — His  intellectual 
outfit  generally 

Thomas  Arnold  has  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
the  subject  of  one  of  the  best  biographies  in  our 
language.  In  the  history  of  English  literature,  when 
one  comes  to  enumerate  the  most  notable  biographies 
which  have  been  produced,  it  will  be  found  that  the 
number  of  such  books  entitled  to  the  highest  rank 
as  works  of  art  is  not  large.  It  is  easy  to  record 
the  dates  and  parentage,  the  public  employments,  the 
events  and  movements  of  a  man's  outward  life,  to 
give  a  selection  from  his  letters  and  to  add  a  critical 
account  of  his  principal  writings.  But  it  is  not  easy 
to  present  a  true  portraiture  of  the  hero's  character, 
to  acquire  a  keen  insight  into  the  motive  forces  of 
his  life,  to  distinguish  the  significant  from  the  insig- 
nificant, the  typical  from  the  exceptional  incidents 
in  his  career,  to  look  at  him  from  without,  and 
also   to  understand  him  from  within,  and  to  know 

B  1 


2  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

with  what  eyes  he  saw  the  worhl  around  liiin,  and 
in  what  spirit  he  encountered  the  problems  it  pre- 
sented. "I  have  remarked,"  says  Carlyle,  "that 
a  true  delineation  of  the  smallest  man,  and  his 
scene  of  pilgrimage  through  life,  is  capable  of 
interesting  the  greatest  man;  and  that  all  men  are 
to  an  unspeakable  degree  brothers,  each  man's  life 
a  strange  emblem  of  every  man's,  and  that  human 
portraits  faithfully  drawn  are  of  all  pictures  the 
welcomest  on  human  walls."*  Of  English  books 
which  have  best  fulfilled  these  conditions  Bacon's 
Henry  VIL,  Walton's  Lives,  Johnson's  Lives,  Bos- 
well's  Johnson,  Cai'lyle's  Life  of  Sterling,  Tre- 
velyan's  Life  of  Macaulay,  !Mr.  John  Morley's 
Rousseau  and  Walpole  are  among  the  best.  But 
Dean  Stanley's  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Dr.  Arnold 
will  ever  be  entitled  to  a  high  rank,  not  only  for  the 
vividness  of  its  presentation  of  a  striking  character 
and  the  circumstances  of  a  life,  but  also  for  the 
skill  Avith  which  relevant  and  irrelevant  facts  are 
discriminated,  and  for  the  profound  sympathy  of  tlie 
author  with  its  subject.  The  book  will  long  remain 
to  the  student  of  tlie  social,  religious,  and  p«ditical 
history  of  the  former  half  of  the  nineteenth  century 
a  treasury  of  valuable  material,  because  it  })ortrays  in 
clear  outline  a  central  figure  round  which  clustered 
some  of  the  most  n-UKirkable  ])ersonages  and  inci- 
dents of  a  stirring  and  eventful  period.  Stanley's 
book  is  a  large  one  and  deals  necessarily  with  nuich 
ephemeral  controversy,  religious  and  i>olitical,  wliich 
1  Ciirlyle's  Life  of  Sterliuy,  Cliai).  1. 


STANLEY'S    LIFE   OF    ARNOLD  3 

may  possibly  not  excite  any  strong  interest  in  the 
present  generation  of  readers.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
these  facts  may  have  the  effect  of  concealing  from 
those  readers  much  that  is  of  permanent  value  in 
Arnold's  history  and  performance.  A  smaller  volume, 
The  Life  of  Dr.  Arnold,  by  Miss  Emma  J.  Worboise, 
is  also  distinguished  by  care  and  sympathy,  by  a 
reverent  and  yet  candid  estimate  of  character,  and 
especially  by  the  emphasis  with  which  she  dwells 
on  the  religious  side  of  Arnold's  nature  and  influ- 
ence. It  is  not  in  the  vain  hope  of  adding  new 
material  to  the  story  which  has  twice  been  so  well 
told,  or  with  a  view  to  present  any  new  theory  by 
which  to  interpret  the  significance  of  Arnold's 
career,  that  the  present  book  is  written,  but  simply 
in  order  to  bring  into  special  prominence  those 
features  of  his  own  character  and  that  of  his  more 
gifted  son  Matthew,  which  possess  special  interest 
and  are  likely  to  be  of  permanent  value  to  the  pro- 
fessional teacher. 

Of  his  personal  history  during  the  forty-seven  years 
in  which  he  lived,  a  brief  outline  will  here  suffice. 
He  was  born  in  1795,  at  West  Cowes  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  the  son  of  a  collector  of  customs,  who  died 
suddenly  when  the  boy  was  five  years  old,  from  the 
same  malady  —  angina  pectoris  —  which  afterwards 
proved  fatal  to  himself.  He  owed  much  of  his  early 
education  to  the  pious  care  of  his  mother,  and  more 
to  the  wisdom  and  unfailing  devotion  of  his  aunt, 
Miss  Delafield,  towards  whom  he  through  life  evinced 
the  strongest  affection  and  gratitude.      From  1803  to 


4  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

ISO?  he  was  a  pupil  in  the  endowed  school  at  Warmin- 
ster, and  was  then  transferred  to  Winchester.  In  ISll, 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  was  entered  at  Oxford  as  a 
scholar  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Three  years  later 
he  took  his  degree,  and  gained  a  First  Class  in 
Classics.  In  1815  he  was  elected  a  Fellow  of  Oriel; 
in  1815  he  won  the  Chancellor's  pri;j^for  Tirttiin,  nnd 
in  1817  tliaiL.ibx_aai_Eaiglish_£asay-  He  continued  in 
the  University  until  1820  at  work  as  a  tutor,  having 
been  ordained  two  years  earlier.  He  then  left 
Oxford  and  took  a  curacy  at  Lalehani  in  Surrey, 
married  Mary  Penrose,  and  during  the  next  eight 
years  was  chiefly  occupied  in  historical  studies  and 
in  preparing  private  jiupils  for  the  University.  In 
1828  he  accepted  the  Head-^Iastership  of  Rugby 
School,  and  continued  iu  that  post  until  his  sudden 
death  in  1842. 

Of  the  influences  which  contributed  to  shape  his 
character  in  early  life,  perhaps  the  most  potent,  next 
to  those  of  a  happy,  intelligent,  well-ordered  home, 
were  the  political  and  military  events  Avhich  at  a 
crisis  of  extraordinary  interest  in  English  history, 
were  well  calculated  to  fire  the  imagination  and  call 
forth  the  latent  ])atriotism  of  a  young  boy.  He  was 
but  a  little  child  when  Pitt  was  at  the  zenith  of  his 
power,  and 

"  Launched  that  thunderbolt  of  war 
On  Egypt,  Hafnia,  Tnifalgar," 

when  Nelson's  victories  filled  all  English  hearts  with 
exultation,  when  the  name  of  Buonaparte  was  so  asso- 


EARLY   TRAINING  5 

ciated  with  terror  and  alarm  that  nurses  used  to 
frighten  chiklren  with  the  threat  that  he  was  com- 
ing; and  when  every  gazette  brought  exciting  news 
of  battle  by  field  or  at  sea.  The  news  of  Trafalgar 
to  a  boy  of  ten,  and  of  Corunna  four  years  later, 
and  the  succession  of  peninsular  victories  ending  at 
Vittoria  in  1813,  could  not  fail  to  make  an  enduring 
impression  on  the  mind  of  an  open-hearted,  thought- 
ful lad,  habitually  predisposed  to  look  upon  human 
history  rather  as  the  scene  of  action  and  of  noble 
endeavour  than  in  any  other  light. 

Years  after,  he  looked  back  and  counted  his  early 
experience  of  ships  and  warfare  as  among  the  forma- 
tive influences  of  his  life.  ^"More  than  half  my 
boys,"  he  said  in  1829,  "never  saw  the  sea  and  never 
were  in  London,  and  it  is  surprising  how  the  first  of 
these  disadvantages  interferes  with  their  understand- 
ing much  of  the  ancient  poetry.  Brought  up  myself 
in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  amidst  the  bustle  of  soldiers 
and  sailors,  and  familiar  from  a  child  with  boats  and 
ships  and  the  flags  of  half  Europe,  which  gave  me 
an  instinctive  acquaintance  with  geography,  I  quite 
marvel  to  find  in  what  a  state  of  ignorance  boys  are 
at  seventeen  or  eighteen  who  have  lived  all  their  days 
in  inland  parishes  or  small  country  towns."  ^ 

To  such  experience,  and  to  the  events  of  the  great 
war,  may  be  attributed  the  zest  with  which  he  after- 
wards described  the  wars  of  Greece  and  of  Rome, 
the  keen  interest  with  which  he  traced  with  Livy  the 
march  of  Hannibal  over  the  Alps,  or  described  the 
1  Letter  XII. 


6  TIKJMAS   AUNOLI) 

battle  of  ^Egospotamos  or  Salauiis.  Dt)\vn  to  the  time 
when  he  went  to  Oxford,  all  English  politics  were 
wai-like.  Great  questions  of  domestic  politics,  such 
as  the  emancipation  of  the  Catholics,  and  social  and 
electoral  reform,  Avere  for  the  time  in  abeyance,  or 
they  would  probably  have  had,  even  at  that  early 
date,  profound  interest  for  him.  If  the  combative 
instinct  was  strongly  manifest  in  him  through  life, 
so  that  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  in  one  sense 
he  was  a  "man  of  war  from  his  youth,"  the  fact  may 
be  partly  ascribed  to  the  fierce  national  rivalries  and 
contests  in  the  midst  of  which  his  childhood  was 
passed,  and  to  the  strong  impulse  which  those  con- 
tests gave  to  his  youthful  patriotism. 

Nor  could  the  changed  aspect  of  the  literary  hori- 
zon be  without  its  influence  on  a  young  boy  who  was 
from  the  first  a  voracious  reader,  as  sensitive  to  the 
intellectual  as  to  the  political  movements  of  his 
time.  The  taste  for  the  classical  poetry  of  Pope  and 
Dryden  had  declined;  Cowper,  Thomson,  and  Crabbe 
had  sought  the  subjects  of  their  verse  in  the  incidents 
of  familiar  life,  had  evinced  a  keener  sense  of  the 
beauties  of  outward  nature,  had  revolted  against 
established  tradition,  and  had  prepared  the  way  for 
a  revival  of  the  healthy  romanticism,  which  was  begin- 
ning to  find  a  fuller  expression  in  Coleridge,  Scott, 
Wordsworth,  and  Southey,  and  was  afterwards  to 
achieve  some  of  its  greatest  triumphs  in  Tennyson 
and  Browning.  But  although  ballad  poetry  and 
Pope's  Homer  had  ever  a  certain  fascination  for  him, 
chiefly  because  of  the  incidental  liglit  it  threw  on  his- 


BOOKS   AND   STUDIES  7 

tory,  it  was  not  from  the  poets,  ancient  or  modern,  that 
he  derived  the  main  inspiration  of  his  life.  History 
and  political  philosopjiY  always  had  stronger  attrac- 
tions for  hini.  Gibbon  and  Burke,  JMitford,  Eussell, 
and  Priestley,  Thucydides  and  Livy,  Herodotus  and 
Xenophon,  were  eagerly  read  by  him  at  a  very  early 
age,  and  had  a  larger  share  than  tragedians  or  poets 
in  the  direction  of  his  aims  and  the  formation  of  his 
tastes  and  character.  "Every  man,"  says  Coleridge, 
"  is  born  an  Aristotelian  or  a  Platonist.  The  one 
considers  reason  a  quality  or  attribute,  the  other  con- 
siders it  a  power."  We  may  well  hesitate  to  accept 
Coleridge's  rough  classification  of  mankind  as  ex- 
haustive; but  in  so  far  as  the  distinction  on  which 
he  insists  is  real,  it  is  well  illustrated  in  Arnold's 
mind  and  character.  He  was  Aristotelian,  mainly  in 
the  sense  in  which  he  sought  to  make  all  speculative 
enquiry  subservient  to  the  solution  of  practical  prob- 
lems. To  the  last  he  had  a  peculiar  reverence  and 
affection  for  the  "dear  old  Stagja-ite,"  and  when  the 
time  came  for  him  to  send  his  sons  to  the  University, 
he  was  led  to  prefer  Oxford,  because  there  Aristotle 
was  held  in  higher  esteem  and  Avas  more  likely  to 
be  well  studied  than  at  the  sister  University.  The 
parent  of  science,  properly  so  called,  the  master  of 
criticism,  and  in  one  sense  the  founder  of  formal 
logic,  Aristotle  was  to  Arnold  something  more  than 
all  this  ;  he  was  the  guide  to  right  methods  of  study, 
the  seer  who  beheld  the  larger  problems  of  life,  of 
society,  and  of  polity  in  their  true  perspective,  and  the 
intrepid  and  earnest  seeker  after  truth.      Mr.  Justice 


8  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

Coleridge,  in  liis  interesting  reminiscences  of  Arnold 
as  an  undergradnate  at  Corpus,  remarks,  "  He  was  so 
imbued  with  Aristotle's  language  and  ideas  that  in 
earnest  and  unreserved  conversation  or  in  writing, 
his  train  of  thoughts  was  so  affected  by  the  Ethics 
and  the  Rhetoric,  that  he  cited  the  maxims  of  the 
Stagyrite  as  oracles,  and  his  language  was  quaintly 
and  easily  pointed  with  phrases  from  him.  I  never 
knew  a  man  who  made  such  familiar,  even  fond,  use 
of  an  author;  it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  he 
spoke  of  him  as  of  one  intimately  and  affectionately 
known  and  valued."  * 

For  one  who  was  destined  many  years  later  to  exert 
so  large  an  influence  on  the  public '  schools  of  Eng- 
land, it  was  a  happy  and  appropriate  circumstance 
that  his  own  early  education  was  obtained  at  public 
schools  and  largely  influenced  by  the  traditions  of 
venerable  endowments.  From  the  age  of  eight  to 
nearly  twelve,  he  was  at  Warminster,  one  of  the 
minor  grammar  schools,  founded  early  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century;  and  thenceforward,  until  the  age  of 
sixteen,  he  was  a  scholar  at  Winchester.     There  is 


1  Stanley's  Life  and  Correapondence. 

2  This  title,  "  Public  Schools,"  is  one  which  may  easily  he  misin- 
terpreted by  American  readers,  since  in  their  country  it  connotes 
the  ordinary  common  and  municipal  school,  which  is  acccssililc  to 
all  classes,  and  in  which  instruction  of  tiie  most  elementary  char- 
acter is  given.  But  in  England  the  common  use  of  the  name  is 
limited  to  ten  or  fifteen  schools  of  the  highest  rank  and  the  closest 
relation  to  the  Universities,  and  for  the  most  part  of  ancient  and 
historic  foundation,  —  Eton,  Harrow,  Winchester,  AVest minster,  St. 
Paul's,  Charterhouse,  Merchant  Taylor's,  Kughy,  and  Shrewsbury 
being  the  most  famous  examples  of  the  "  Public  School  "  type. 


SCHOOL-BOY   LIFE  9 

little  to  be  recorded  respecting  his  residence  at  the 
former  of  these  schools,  except  that  he  alwa3's  spoke 
gratefully  of  the  obligations  he  owed  to  iDr.  Griffiths, 
the  head  master.  But  his  residence  at  Winchester 
had  a  far  larger  share  in  determining  the  future 
development  of  his  tastes  and  the  aims  of  his  life. 
The  oldest,  nearly  the  richest,  and  in  many  respects 
the  most  illustrious,  of  the  public  schools  of  England, 
Winchester  is  specially  fortunate,  not  only  in  its 
situation  and  its  surroundings,  but  in  its  history  and 
traditions.  The  memory  of  William  of  Wykeham, 
scholar,  architect,  bishop,  and  benefactor,  the  asso- 
ciation of  the  College  with  the  noble  Cathedral,  the 
nave  of  which  he  had  designed,  and  with  New  Col- 
lege, Oxford,  also  a  monument  of  his  genius  and  his 
munificence,  the  long  roll  of  famous  pupils,  which  in 
the  course  of  more  than  four  centuries  has  contained 
the  names  of  Chichele,  of  Warham,  Waynflete,  of 
Ken,  and  of  South  among  ecclesiastics;  of  Cole, 
Grocyn,  and  Udal  among  scholars;  and  of  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Otway,  Young,  Collins, 
and  Warton  among  other  notable  men  in  literature  or 
in  public  life, —  all  combined  to  strengthen  in  him 
that  feeling  of  reverence  for  what  is  ancient  and 
noble,  and  that  pride  in  a  great  intellectual  inheri- 
tance, which  form  such  potent  factors  in  the  educa- 
tion of  a  youth,  especially  of  one  filled  with  ardour 
and  sensibility,  and  with  a  desire  to  do  something 
worthy  of  his  spiritual  ancestry.  In  the  massive 
architecture  of  the  Cathedral,  in  its  solemn  mediae- 
val surroundings,    in   the   neighbouring    hospital   of 


10  TIIDMAS   AKNOLl) 

Saint  Cross,  and  in  tlic  buildings  of  the  ancient  Col- 
lege itself,  there  was  nmch  to  kindle  the  imagination 
of  one  who  loved  history ;  and  in  the  fair  and  pleas- 
ant country  round,  watered  by  tlie  Itchen,  and  beau- 
tified by  shady  elms,  there  was  room  for  delightful 
rambles,  scope  for  boyish  enterprise,  and  much  to 
encourage  that  love  of  nature  which  afterwards 
showed  itself  to  be  one  of  his  healthiest  characteris- 
tics,  and  which  exercised  a  purifying  influence  on 
tlie  whole. pX  iii»  +iTe.  To  the  last  he  was  a  loyal 
Wykehamist,  proud  of  his  association  with  AVinches- 
ter,  grateful  to  the  memory  of  Goddard  and  Cabell, 
who  had  been  head  masters  during  his  stay,  and 
steadfastly  attached  to  the  friends  Avhom  he  had 
made  while  at  school. 

No  estimate  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  equip- 
ment with  which  he  embarked  on  the  voyage  of 
active  life  would  be  complete  if  it  did  not  take  into 
account  the  deep  seriousness  of  his  character,  his 
strong  interest  in  religious  questions,  and  his  high 
sense  of  duty  and  of  human  responsibilit}'.  Sir 
John  Coleridge's  letter,  already  quoted,  contains  a 
striking  record  of  the  impression  he  made  on  tliat 
acute  observer  and  sympathetic  friend,  when  he  was 
an  undergraduate  at  Corpus,  and  afterwards  Fellow 
of  Oriel. 

"His  was  an  anxiously  inquisitive  mind,  a  scnipultnisly 
conscientious  heart :  his  enquiries  i)rcviously  to  his  talcing 
orders  led  him  on  to  distressing  doubts  on  certain  jioints  in 
the  Articles ;  these  were  not  low  nor  rationalistic  in  their 
tendency  according  to   the  bad  sense  of  that   term,  there 


RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE  11 

was  uo  indisposition  in  him  to  believe  merely  because  the 
Article  transcended  his  reason  :  he  doubted  the  proof  and  the 
interpretation  of  the  textual  authority.  His  state  was  very 
painful,  and  I  tlunk  morbid,  for  I  remarked  that  the  two 
occasions  on  which  I  was  privy  to  the  distress  were  precisely 
those  in  which  to  doubt  was  against  his  dearest  schemes  of 
worldly  happiness ;  and  the  consciousness  of  this  seemed  to 
make  him  distrustful  of  the  arguments  which  were  intended 
to  lead  his  mind  to  acquiescence." 

A  friend  to  whose  counsel  lie  had  recourse  at  this 
crisis,  and  who  had  advised  him  to  pause  in  his 
enquiries,  to  seek  earnestly  for  further  help  and  light 
from  above,  and  meanwhile  to  turn  himself  more 
strongly  than  ever  to  the  practical  duties  of  life, 
wrote  of  him  in  1819: 

"It  is  a  defect  of  A.'s  mind  that  he  cannot  get  rid  of  a 
certain  feeling  of  objections,  and  particularly  when,  as  he 
fancies  the  bias  is  so  strong  upon  him  to  decide  one  way 
from  interest :  he  scniples  doing  what  I  advise  him,  which 
is  to  put  down  the  objections  by  main  force  whenever  they 
arise  in  his  mind ;  fearful  that  in  so  doing,  he  shall  be  vio- 
lating his  conscience  for  a  maintenance  sake." 

It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  latter  part  of 
this  friendly  prescription  was  the  best  calculated  to 
heal  the  hurt  of  a  sensitive  conscience.  But  the 
advice  to  busy  himself  in  practical  work  proved  very 
helpful.     Little  by  little,  though  after  severe  trials, 

"  He  fought  his  doubts  and  gathered  strength, 
He  W'Ould  not  make  his  judgment  blind  ; 
He  faced  the  spectres  of  the  mind  — 
And  laid  them  :  thus  he  came  at  length 


THOMAS   ARNOLD 

"  To  find  a  stronger  faith  liis  own, 

And  power  w:i.s  with  him  in  tiio  night 
AVhich  makes  tlie  (hirkncss  and  the  light 
And  dwells  not  in  the  light  alone."  * 

Though  doubt  was  characteristic  of  him,  and  was 
from  the  nature  of  his  mental  constitution  inevitable, 
he  could  not,  like  ]\Iontaigne,  "  se  reposer  tranquille- 
ment  sur  I'oreiller  du  doute."  His  mind  was  averse 
from  suspense,  and  after  much  effort  he  laid  hold 
firmly  on  the  central  truths  of  the  Christian  revela- 
tion, a  hold  never  abandoned  or  relaxed.  Perhaps 
in  arriving  at  this  result  he  was  helped  most  by 
Hooker  and  Butler,  whom  to  the  last  lie  held  in 
higher  estimation  than  any  other  of  the  English 
divines,  even  than  Jeremy  Taylor,  whose  genius,  no 
less  than  his  devout  aspirations  after  holiness,  he 
greatly  admired.  He  certainly  owed  little  to  Paley's 
evidences,  or  any  of  the  colder  evidential  theology 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Very  sadly,  he  said  in 
late  life  in  reference  to  his  youthful  studies :  ^  "  There 
appears  to  me  in  the  English  divines  a  want  of  be- 

ilieving  or  of  disbelieving  anything,  because  it  is  true 
or  false.  It  is  a  question  which  does  not  seem  to 
occur  to  them."  This  sentence  is  characteristic  of 
the  impatience  with  which  he  always  treated  what 
seemed  to  him  insincere  or  half-he{iili:il-ittt»^j;iJ^ts  to 
defend  the  Christian  faith.  His  passituuite  desire  to 
see  clearly  into  the  truth  of  things,  and  to  brush  away 
all  hindrances  and  i)rejudices  by  whicli  counsel  might 

1  In  Menwriaiii.  -  St;iiilfV.  l-rttcr  CLII. 


HIS   INTELLECTUAL   OUTFIT  13 

be  darkened,  alarmed  the  more  timid  and  orthodox  of 
his  companions,  but  nevertheless  led  some  of  them 
to  admit  that  one  had  better  have  Arnold's  doubts 
than  most  men's  certainties. 

Thus  the  environment  of  his  early  years  and  the 
mental  and  spiritual  outfit  with  which   he  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  his  life  were  in  many  ways  hap- 
pily adapted  to  the  part  he  was  destined  to  play  in 
the  world.     Without  fortune,  but  with  all  the  com- 
forts and  shelter  of  a  godly  home,  he  was  free  from 
any    temptation    to    idleness    or    extravagance,    and  \ 
conscious   from   the   first  that  his  future  was  to  be 
assured  only  by  his  own  strenuous  effort.     Without    : 
patronage  or  the  help  of  influential  friends,  he  was   j 
enabled  to  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  a  renowned  pub-   ' 
lie  school,   and  to  make  valuable   friendships  there. 
With  tastes  especially  directed  towards  history  and 
language,  and  to  ethical  and  political  problems,  his 
studies  were  precisely  such  as  had  the  closest  rela-    : 
tion    to    a    profession    in   which   the    formation    of 
character   is   of  no   less    importance   than   the  com-    ' 
munication   of  knowledge.  A  And   the   fact  that   his 
religious  convictions  had.feen  reached  after  dearly 
bought  spiritual  experience,  helped  all  through  life 
to  place  him  in  sympathy  with  young  and  earnest 
enquirers,  to  make  him  understand  their  difficulties 
and  to  qualify  him  for  the  office  of  a  teacher  and  a 
guide/>fro  bsJiOJittmaJie. iu  -Uift^rettmstauces  and  in 
.  the  discipline  jof^eaxLy^-Jife.  ■ia,ijie,Jot  of  niany.paen. 
/  But  it  is  the  lot  of  comparatively  few  to  find  in  later 
I  days  such  singular  opportunities   as  Arnold  enjoyed 


14  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

of  turning  tliis  di.seipline  to  useful  account,  or  to 
be  so  strongly  and  so  early  peneti-ated  with  a  sense 
of  the  obligation  which  the  possession  of  privileges 

entails. 


CHAPTER  II 

Residence  at  Oxford  —  Arnold's  friends  and  associates  —  Marriage 
and  settlement  at  Laleham  —  Life  as  a  private  tutor  —  Studies 
and  literary  work  —  Aims  and  aspirations  —  Appointment  to 
Rugby 

The  period  of  Arnold's  residence  at  Oxford  — 
1811-1820  —  was  one  of  great  intellectual  activity 
and  even  of  unrest.  It  was  indeed  anterior  to  the 
time  of  Royal  Commissions  and  of  schemes  for  aca- 
demic reorganization,  for  the  revival  of  the  profes- 
soriate, or  for  the  introduction  of  new  systems  of 
graduation  and  examination.  The  importunate  claims 
of  "the  physical  sciences  for  fuller  recognition,  either 
in  the  teaching  or  the  examinations  of  the  Universi- 
ties, had  not  yet  been  urged,  and  had  they  been  put 
forth  at  the  time  would  have  met  with  scant  sympathy, 
either  from  the  most  influential  leaders  of  thought  in 
academic  circles,  or  from  Arnold  himself.  He  had 
been  elected  scholar  at  Corpus  Christi  College  on  his 
admission  to  the  University;  but  after  taking  his  de- 
gree in  the  first  class  in  1814,  he  became  a  Fellow  of 
Oriel,  and  it  was  in  this  college  that  his  chief  academic 
friendships  were  formed.  Dean  Boyle,  in  his  Remi- 
niscences, says,  "Many  years  ago  Matthew  Arnold 
said  to  me  that  he  had  been  very  much  struck,  in 
reading  again  Stanley's  life  of  his  father,  with  the 
high-minded  religious  tone  of  the  Corpus  set,  as 
15 


16  THOMAS    ARNOLD 

they  were  called,  and  the  great  interest  shown  by 
them  in  literature."'  Whateley,  Copleston,  Davison, 
Keble,  Hawkins,  and  Hampden  were  among  the  Fel- 
lows of  Oriel.  Arnold  obtained  the  Cliancellor's 
prize  for  two  University  essays,  Latin  and  English, 
but  failed  to  obtain  the  prize  for  verse.  What  are 
now  called  educational  problems  did  not  possess  very 
great  interest  in  such  a  society.  The  principles  of 
political  and  theological  science,  and  their  applica- 
tion to  the  social  problems  and  the  moral  needs  of 
the  people,  were,  it  would  seem,  the  dominant  sub- 
jects of  thought  and  discussion  in  the  common  room 
at  Oriel.  Many  of  the  residents  were,  as  Sir  John 
Coleridge  said  : 

"  For  the  most  part  Tories  in  ( 'lunch  aiul  State,  great  re- 
specters of  things  as  tliey  were,  and  not  very  tolerant  of  the 
disposition  which  Arnold  brouglit  with  him  to  (juestion  their 
wisdom.  Many  and  long  were  the  coiiHicts  we  had  and  with 
unequal  numbers.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  his  rather 
pugnacious  Radicalism  and  his  iiatred  of  tlie  corrupt  French 
Aristocracy  cften  betrayed  him  into  intemperate  speech,  ami 
placed  him  out  of  sympatliy  with  many  of  his  a.ssociates,  but 
as  he  afterwards  said,  '  All  the  associations  of  Oxford,  wliioh 
I  loved  exceedingly,  blew  my  Jacobinism  to  pieces.'  " 

And  in  a  letter  to  'Mr.  Tucker  -  he  afterwards  said : 

"  The  benefits  which  I  have  received  from  my  Oxford 
frien(lshii)s  have  been  so  invaluable,  as  relating  to  points  of 
the  highest  importance,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  ever  to 
forget  them,  or  to  cease  to  look  on  thcni  as  tlie  greatest 
blessings  I  have  ever  yet  enjoyed  in  life." 

1  Keininisceiices  of  Dunn  !'..)>  li',  p.  IJ'.I.       -'  Slaiiley.  Letter  IV. 


LIFE   AT   LALEHAM  17 

Yet  it  would  not  be  right  to  credit  Winchester  and 
Oxford  with  the  whole  of  his  education.  The  striv- 
ings and  controversies  of  the  school  and  the  Uni- 
versity Avere  very  precious  parts  of  the  discipline 
which  helped  to  form  his  opinions  and  to  give  cour- 
age and  force  to  his  mode  of  expressing  them.  But 
experiences  of  another  kind  were  needed  to  mature 
his  character  and  to  shape  the  course  of  his  life,  — 

"  Impulses  of  deeper  birth 
Had  come  to  him  in  solitude,"  — 

or  rather  in  the  comparative  solitude  of  Laleham,  to 
which  he  betook  himself  in  1819.  He  had  been 
ordained  the  year  before,  and  he  accepted  a  curacy 
in  this  little  village,  intending  to  take  as  pupils  a 
small  number  of  young  men  preparing  for  the  Uni- 
versities. During  the  seven  years  succeeding  his  mar- 
riage in  1820  he  lived  in  retirement,  busy  first  with  his 
pupils,  and  afterwards  with  a  Lexicon  to  Thucydides 
and  with  Greek  and  Eoman  history.  A  pupil  Avho 
read  with  him  at  Laleham,  and  resided  in  his  house, 
Mr.  Bonamy  Price,  subsequently  a  Rugby  master,  and 
afterwards  Professor  of  Political  Econoni}-  at  Oxford, 
testifies:  "The  most  remarkable  thing,  which  struck 
me  at  once  on  joining  the  Laleham  circle,  was  the 
wonderful  healthiness  of  tone  and  feeling  which  pre- 
vailed in  it.  .  .  .  Arnold's  great  power  as  a  private 
tutor  resided  in  this,  that  he  gave  such  an  intense 
earnestness  to  life.  Every  pupil  was  made  to  feel  that 
there  was  a  work  for  him  to  do,  that  his  happiness  as 
well  as  his  duty  lay  in  doing  that  work  well." 
c 


18  THOMAS   AKNOLD 

On  the  very  attractive  picture  which  is  presented  in 
Dean  Stanley's  pages  of  the  tranquil  life  daring  nearly 
nine  years  at  Laleham,  of  his  happy  domestic  sur- 
roundings, and  of  his  diligent  reading,  it  is  unneces- 
sary here  to  dwell.  It  will  suffice  to  say  that  the 
interval  of  comparative  seclusion  between  the  active 
and  quasi-public  life  of  the  University,  and  the  yet 
more  formidable  storm  and  stress  wliich  awaited  him 
at  Rugby,  did  much  to  strengthen  his  character,  to 
give  solidity  to  his  scholarship,  and  to  deepen  his 
religious  convictions.  The  charm  of  the  country,  the 
delights  of  home,  the  daily  call  of  duty,  and  the 
refreshment  of  congenial  studies  gave  fulness  and 
variety  to  his  life,  and  made  up  a  peaceful  and 
appropriate  scene  for  "those  quiet  efforts  of  self- 
mastery —  moral  and  intellectual  —  which  so  well 
precede  in  men  of  a  certain  strength  the  going  forth 
to  the  real  business  of  life  and  to  the  contact  of  good 
and  evil."  ^  He  himself  afterwards  spoke  of  Laleiiani 
as  a  "place  of  premature  rest."  The  arrangement 
which  he  made  for  the  division  of  duty  between  him- 
self and  his  partner  practically  confined  his  own 
attention  to  the  elder  pupils;  and  in  making  it,  he 
showed  a  characteristic  unwillingness  to  undertake 
any  duty  which  he  did  nut  feel  able  to  do  well.      For  » 

example :  l 

"Bucklaiul  is  luituially  foii.lcr  of  tlio  sdiiK.l  aii.l    is   in-  J 

clined  to  give  it  tlio  greatest  part  of  Iiis  attention  ;  and   I  -I 

from  my  Oxford   liabits  as  naturally  like  the  other  part  of 

1  See  Edlnbiu-ijh  lievicw,  October,  1.S44. 


WORK   AS   A   TRIVATE   TUTOR  19 

the  business  best ;  and  thus  I  have  extended  my  time  of 
reading  with  our  four  pupils  before  breakfast,  from  one  hour 
to  two.  Not  that  I  dislike  being  in  the  school,  but  quite 
the  contrary ;  still,  however,  I  have  not  the  experience  in 
that  sort  of  work,  nor  the  perfect  familiarity  with  my  gram- 
mar requisite  to  make  a  good  master,  and  I  cannot  teach 
Homer  as  well  as  my  friends  Herodotus  and  Livy,  whom  I 
am  now  reading  I  suppose  for  the  fiftieth  time."  ^ 

The  distrust  of  liis  own  power  to  interest  boys  led 
him  to  decline  a  friendly  proposal  that  he  should 
accept  an  assistant-mastership  at  Winchester.  "It 
is  a  situation,"  he  said,  "which  I  know  myself  very 
ill-qualified  to  fill.  ...  I  know  pretty  well  what 
the  life  of  a  master  at  Winchester  would  be,  and  feel 
equally  certain  that  it  would  be,  for  me,  excessively 
disagreeable."^  This,  however,  was  written  in  1819, 
at  the  beginning  of  his  residence  at  Laleham.  How 
the  experience  of  the  following  years  helped  to  alter 
his  estimate  of  his  own  powers  and  duties,  and  to 
give  him  the  confidence  needed  for  the  main  work  of 
his  life,  may  be  judged  from  a  few  brief  sentences 
extracted  from  letters  written  within  that  period: 

"  I  am  now  working  at  German  in  good  earnest,  and  have 
got  a  master  who  comes  down  here  to  me  once  a  week.  I 
have  read  a  good  deal  of  Julius  Hare's  friend  Niebuhr,  and 
have  found  it  abundantly  overpay  the  labour  of  learning 
a  new  language,  —  to  say  nothing  of  some  other  very  valua- 
ble books  with  which  I  am  becoming  acquainted,  all  pre- 
paratory to  my  Eoman  History.  I  am  going  to  set  to  work 
at  the  Coke  upon  Littleton  of  Roman  Law  to  make  myself 

1  Letter  to  J.  T.  Coleridge,  Nov.  29, 1819. 

2  Letter  to  F.  C.  Blackstoae,  Oct.  28,  1819. 


20  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

acquaintoil,  if  i»ossi])lc,  with  the  temire  of  property  ;  and  I 
think  I  shall  apply  to  you  for  the  loan  of  some  of  your  books 
touching  the  Civil  law,  and  especially  Justinian's  InxtitKfes. 
As  my  knowledge  increases,  I  only  get  a  clearer  insight  into 
my  ignorance,  and  this  excites  me  to  do  my  best  to  remove 
it  before  I  descend  to  the  Avcnuis  of  the  press.  But  I  ara 
twice  the  man  for  labour  that  I  have  been  lately,  for  the  last 
year  or  two,  because  the  pupils,  I  thank  God,  are  going  on 
well.  I  have  at  this  moment  the  plea.surc  of  seeing  three 
of  them  sitting  at  the  round  table  in  the  drawing-room,  all 
busily  engaged  about  their  themes.  The  general  good  etlect 
of  their  sitting  with  us  all  the  evening  is  really  very  sur- 


"  What  I  am  doing  in  Greek  and  Roman  history  "  (he  is 
referring  to  the  articles  he  was  preparing  for  the  Enryrlo- 
piedia  Metropolit<in(i)  "is  only  my  amusement  during  the 
single  hour  of  the  day  that  I  can  employ  on  any  occupation 
of  my  own,  namely  between  nine  and  ten  in  the  evening. 
With  such  limited  time  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  attempt 
a!iy  work  which  required  much  labour  and  which  could  not 
be  promoted  by  my  common  occupations  with  my  pupils. 
The  Grecian  history  is  just  one  of  the  things  I  can  do  most 
easily.  My  knowledge  of  it  beforehand  is  pretty  full,  and 
my  lectures  are  continually  keeping  the  subject  before  my 
mind,  so  that  to  write  about  it  is  really  my  recreation  ;  and 
the  Roman  history  is  the  same  to  me,  though  in  a  less  de- 
gree. I  could  not  have  any  other  subject  which  is  equally 
fomiliar,  or  which  in  my  present  circumstances  would  Ix" 
practicable ;  and  certainly  if  I  can  complete  plain  and  popu- 
lar histories  of  Greece  and  Rome  of  a  moderate  size,  cleared 
of  nonsense  and  non-( .'liristian  principles,  I  do  not  think  I 
shall  be  amusing  myself  ill."- 

1  Letter  to  W.  Hull,  Sept.  30,  1824. 
•i  Letter  to  J.  Tucker,  Oct.  21.  1X2*2. 


LITERARY   AIMS  21 

"It  has  been  ray  wish  to  avoid  giving  my  pupils  any 
Greek  to  do  on  Sunday,  so  that  we  do  Greek  Testament  on 
other  days,  but  on  the  Suntlay  always  do  some  English  book, 
and  they  read  so  much  ;  then  I  ask  them  questions  on  it. 
But  I  find  it  almost  impossible  to  make  them  read  a  mere 
English  book  with  sufficient  attention  to  enable  them  to 
answer  questions  out  of  it,  or  if  they  do  cram  themselves  for 
the  time,  they  are  sure  to  forget  it  directly  after." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  the  present  state  of  the  country 
occupies  my  mind,  and  what  a  restless  desire  I  feel  that  it 
were  in  my  power  to  do  any  good."  ^ 

"  I  hope  to  be  allowed  before  I  die  to  accomplish  some- 
thing on  Education,  also  with  regard  to  the  Church  —  the 
last  indeed,  even  more  than  the  other,  were  not  the  last, 
humanly  speaking,  so  hopeless."" 

"  What  say  you  to  a  work  on  ttoXltlkt]  in  the  old  Greek 
sense  of  the  word,  in  which  I  should  try  to  apply  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Gospel  to  the  legislation  and  administration  of 
a  state  ? "  ^ 

"How  pure  and  beautiful  was  John  Keble's  article  on 
Sacred  Poetry  for  the  Quarterli/,  and  how  glad  I  am  that 
he  was  prevailed  upon  to  write  it.  It  seemed  to  me  to 
sanctify  in  a  manner  the  whole  number.  Mine  on  tlie  early 
Roman  history  was  slightly  altered  by  Coleridge  here  and 
there,  so  that  I  am  not  quite  responsible  for  all  of  it."  * 

Ideals  and  aspirations  thus  formed  and  cherished 
would  not  long  have  been  satisfied  with  the  restricted 
area  of  activity  which  Laleham  afforded ;  and  when, 
in  1827,  Dr.  Wooll  resigned  the  Head-Mastership  of 

1  Letter  to  G.  Cornish,  Dec.  6,  1820. 

2  Stanley,  pp.  37,  38,  39. 

3  Letter  to  Whateley,  1827. 

4  Letter  to  J.  Tucker,  Au^.  22,  1825. 


22  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

Rugby,  the  })i'ospect  of  succeeding  to  tluit  olHee  was 
not  only  opportune  but  peculiarly  welcome.  Among 
the  testimonies  in  his  favour,  probably  the  weightiest 
was  that  of  his  old  associate  at  Oriel,  Dr.  Hawkins, 
the  Provost,  who  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that  "  if 
Arnold  were  elected,  he  would  change  the  face  of 
education  all  through  the  public  schools  of  Eng- 
land." He  himself  was  not  without  misgivings 
about  his  own  adequacy  for  the  task,  but  was  never- 
theless conscious  of  powers  which  had  not  yet  found 
their  fullest  exercise,  and  he  responded  with  charac- 
teristic courage  and  eagerness  to  what  seemed  to  him 
the  call  of  duty.  Before  the  election,  he  wrote,  "  If 
I  do  get  it,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  set  to  work  very 
heartily,  and,  with  God's  blessing,  I  should  like  to 
try  whether  my  notions  of  Christian  education  are 
really  impracticable,  whether  our  system  of  public 
schools  has  not  in  it  some  noble  elements,  whicli, 
under  the  blessing  of  the  Spirit  of  all  lioliness  and 
wisdom,  might  produce  fruit  even  to  life  eternal. 
When  I  think  about  it  thus,  I  really  long  to  take  rod 
in  hand;  but  when  I  think  of  the  irpos  to  rtXos,  the 
perfect  vileness  which  I  must  daily  contemplate, 
the  certainty  that  this  can  only  be  partially  renae- 
died,  the  irksomeness  of  \fortemque  Gyan,  fortemque 
Cloanthum,^  and  the  greater  form  and  publicity  of 
the  life  we  should  there  lead  ...  I  grieve  to  think 
of  the  possibility  of  a  change."  ^ 

He  was  elected  to  the  Head-Mastership  of  Kugby 
on  Dec.  2,  1827. 

1  Letter  to  G.  Cornish,  Nov.  :«»,  18'J7. 


ELECTION   TO    KUGBY  23 

After  the  election  his  letters  have  a  more  reassur- 
ing tone.  ''I  have  long  since  looked  upon  Education 
as  my  business  in  life.  .  .  .  You  know  that  I  never 
ran  down  public  schools  in  tlie  lump,  but  grieved 
that  their  exceeding  capabilities  were  not  turned  to 
better  account,  and  if  I  find  myself  in  time  unable  to 
mend  what  I  consider  faulty  in  them,  it  will  at  any 
rate  be  a  practical  lesson  to  teach  me  to  judge  chari- 
tably of  others  who  do  not  reform  public  institutions 
as  much  as  is  desirable."^  And  in  writing  to  J,  T. 
Coleridge,  he  says:  "John  Keble  is  right,  it  is  good 
for  us  to  leave  Laleham,  because  I  feel  that  we  were 
daily  getting  to  regard  it  as  too  much  of  a  home.  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  much  we  both  love  it,  and  its 
perfect  peace  seems  at  times  an  appalling  contrast  to 
the  publicity  of  Rugby.  I  am  sure  that  nothing 
could  stifle  this  regret,  were  it  not  for  my  full 
consciousness  that  I  have  nothing  to  do  Avith  rest 
here,  but  with  labour;  and  tlien  I  can  and  do  look 
forward  to  the  labour  with  nothing  but  satisfac- 
tion, if  my  health  and  faculties  be  still  spared  to 
me." 

The  trustees  of  the  school,  who  were  chiefly  noble- 
men and  country  gentlemen  of  Warwickshire,  of 
whom  no  one  was  personally  known  to  Arnold, 
elected  him  to  the  office  when  he  was  thirty -one 
years  of  age,  and  he  entered  on  his  new  duties  in 
the  August  of  1828.  The  school  had  then  the 
reputation  of  being  the  lowest  and  most  Boeotian 
of  English  public  schools;  perhaps  it  was  for 
1  Letter  to  F.  C.  Blackstoiie,  March  14,  1828. 


24  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

that  very  reason  that  it  olTfreJ  a  hirger  field  lor 
the  ambition  of  a  new  man  filh'il  with  ideas  and 
theories  of  liis  own,  and  conscious  of  his  power  to 
realize  them. 


II 


CHAPTER   III 

Rugby  and  its  foundation — Characteristics  of  ancient  endowed  gram- 
mar school— Illustrations  from  statutes  of  Archbishop  Grindal 
and  DeauColet  —  The  theory  of  classical  education  — Milton  and 
the  Humanists— Example  of  an  entrance  examination  —  Arnold's 
scheme  of  instruction  —  Latin  and  Greek  not  useless,  even  though 
forgotten  in  later  life  —  Evils  of  mechanical  routine  —  Composi- 
tion exercises  —  Versification  —  Objections  to  it  —  School-boy 
artifices  for  evading  it  — Construing  — Bowyer  of  Christ's  Hos- 
pital—  Translation — Grammar  and  philosophy  means  not  ends 
—  Socratic  questioning  —  General  characteristics  of  Arnold's 
methods 

Laweexce  Sheriff,  grocer,  in  15G7  left  land  and 
some  property  in  Middlesex  to  maintain  a  "  fair  and 
convenient  schoolhouse  at  Rugby."  Half  a  century 
before,  Erasmus  had  been  lecturing  on  Greek  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  had  advised  his  friend,  Colet,  in  respect 
to  the  foundation  of  St.  Paul's  School  in  London. 
Within  that  interval  no  fewer  than  one  hundred  and 
thirty-seven  endowed  grammar  schools  had  been 
founded,  including  ]\lanchester,  Eos  worth,,'  Durham,  A*7 
Chester,  Warwick,  Ipswich,  Skipton,  Norwich,  Slier-  ^  • 
borne,  Louth,  Sedbergh,  Birmingham,  Leeds,  Shrews- 
bury, Christ's  Hospital,  Tonbridge,  Ripon,  York, 
Westminster,  Bristol,  Merchant  Taylor's,  Highgate, 
Bedford,  and  Richmond.  Some  of  these  had  been 
founded  by  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI.,  or  Elizabeth, 
a^d  endowed  with  the  property  of  dissolved  monas- 
25 


26  TIKiMAS   AKN<»LD 

teries.  Others  owed  their  origin  to  ecclesiastical 
corporations,  but  lor  the  most  part  they  were  the 
product  of  private  niunilicence,  whether  of  scholars, 
like  Dean  Colet  and  Archbishop  llolgate,  or  traders, 
like  Sir  Andrew  Judd  of  Tonbridge  and  Lawrence 
Sheriif  of  llugby.  These  men  had  been  profoundly 
influenced  by  tlie  new  hopes  and  prospects  of  learning 
which  characterized  the  period  of  tlie  llenaissance 
and  the  Reformation,  and  desired  to  make  permanent 
provision  for  instruction  in  the  Greek  and  Latin 
tongues,  then  the  only  learning  which  had  been 
formulated  and  reduced  to  a  system.  The  record  of 
the  development  and  increasing  wealth  and  repute  of 
Sheriff's  foundation  will  be  found  at  length  in  Car- 
lisle's Endoived  Grammar  Schools,^  1818,  and  in  Mr. 
Thomas  Hughes'  lucid  and  interesting  sketch  in 
Great  Public  Schools.  The  most  important  material 
additions  to  the  ground  and  to  the  building  and  its 
equipment  were  made  by  the  trustees  during  the 
mastership  of  Dr.  John  Wooll,  Arnold's  immediate 
predecessor,  who  presided  over  the  school  from  1810 
till  1827.  Of  him  Mr.  Hughes  says :  "  My  own  belief 
is  that  Wooll  was  a  kindly  gentleman  and  a  good 
scholar  and  teacher,  but  a  choleric  as  well  as  exceed- 

1  It  is  again  necessary  to  guard  against  the  misleading  associa- 
tions which,  with  American  readers,  may  possibly  he  connectt-d 
with  this  name.  In  tlie  United  States  the  grammar  school  is  sim- 
ply the  upper  department  of  an  ordinary  public  elementary  school, 
and  is  distinctly  inferior  to  a  "  high  "  or  secondary  school.  But  in 
England  the  name  is  generally  understood  to  apply  to  those  insii- 
tutions,  generally  some  centuries  old,  which  were  founded  expressly 
for  instruction  in  the  Latin  and  (Jreek  languages,  and  were  designed 
to  prepare  scholars  for  the  Universities. 


THE   FOUNDER   OF   RUGBY   SCHOOL  27 

ingly  vigorous  little  Hercules   iu  black  tights,  who 
brought   from  Winchester  the  faith  that  the   argu- 
meutum  baculinum  is  a  necessary  supplement  to  'man- 
ners'  in  the  'making  of  men'  who  are  to  construe 
Greek  plays  and  write  Latin  longs  and  shorts.     As 
to  the  rest,  the  discipline  of  the  school  and  boarding-    I  ■ 
houses,  and  any  kind  of  supervision  over  the  boys'   ( 
life  and  habits,  there  were  really  none,  except  that  '. 
missing  a  'calling  over'  entailed  a  certain  flogging,  i 
They  were  left  to  themselves,    with  the   inevitable  )• 
result.      As   specimens   of   the   condition   of    things 
wliich  his  successor  had  to  deal  with,  I  may  mention 
that   beagles  and  guns  were  kept  by  the  sportsmen 
among  the  big  fellows,  and  that  those  whose  tastes 
turned  that  way  had  private  cellars  in  the  studies."  ^ 
The  worthy  Lawrence  Sheriff,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered to  his  honour,  did  not  attempt  to  impose  upon 
his  successors  any  educational  theories  of  his  own,  or 
any  restrictions  as  to   the   aims  or  methods  which 
should  be  pursued  in  the  school.     The  trustees  were 
enjoined  in  the  paper  annexed  to  his  Avill  to  procure 
an  "  honest,  discrete,  and  learned  man,  being  a  Mas- 
ter of  Arts  to  take  charge  of  the  house  as  a  Free 
Grammar  School,"  and  this  was  a  sufficient  descrip-    </ 
tion  well  understood  in  his  day  of  the  kind  of  insti- 
tution he  desired  to  endow.     Other  "pious  founders," 
with  less  modesty,  and  a  more  limited  view  of  the 
possibilities  of  the  future,  had  prescribed  with  curious 
minuteness,  not  merely  the  subjects  and  the  order  of 
studies,  but  even  the  books  which  should  be  used  and 
1  Great  Public  Schools,  p.  148. 


28  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

the  hours  at  wliicli  lessons  sliouhl  he  hogun  and  endt'd 
as  well  as  the  scholarly  and  other  qualitieations  which 
the  head  master  and  his  assistants  sliould  possess. 
Two  examples  of  this  kind  will  suffice. 

Archbisliop  Grindal  (15S3),  in  the  elaborate  statutes 
which  he  laid  down  for  the  free  grammar  school  d 
St.  Bees,  prescribed  that  the  schoolmaster  slu)uld  be 
"a  meet  and  learned  person,  that  can  make  Greek 
and  Latin  verses,  and  read  and  interpret  the  Greek 
Grammar  and  otlier  Greek  autliors."  His  scheme  of 
instruction,  set  forth  witli  groat  ininuteness,  may  be 
fairly  accepted  as  tyi)ical  of  tliat  conception  of  a 
liberal  education  which  prevailed  at  the  end  of  tlif 
sixteenth  and  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

"  The  schoolmaster  shall  carefully  .seek  to  bring  up  all  liis 
scholars  equally  in  learning  and  good  manners,  and  shall 
refuse  none  being  born  in  the  counties  of  Cumberland  and 
Westmoreland,  of  whom  he  shall  receive  only  four  pence 
apiece  at  their  first  coming,  for  the  entering  of  their  nan\es 
into  his  book,  and  no  more  for  their  teaching.  He  sliall  en- 
courage the  good  natured,  and  those  that  are  toward  in  learn- 
ing, by  praising  and  prefening  them  to  liigher  j dares,  and 
shall  dispraise  and  displace  the  slothful  and  untoward  that 
either  for  love  of  commendation  or  fear  of  shame,  thoy  may 
be  ])rovoked  to  learn  and  profit  at  their  l>ooks.  He  shall 
chiefly  labour  to  make  his  .scholars  perfect  in  the  Latin  antl 
Greek  grammar,  and  to  the  end  they  niay  betttM-  ]ir«ifit 
therein,  he  shall  exercise  them  in  the  best  authors  in  both 
tongues  that  are  meet  for  their  capacity.  Provided  always 
that  the  first  books  of  construction  that  they  shall  read, 
either  in  Latin  or  Greek,  .shall  be  the  smaller  catechisms 
set  forth  by  public  authority  for  that  jturpose  in  the  said 


DEAX  COLET  FOUNDER  OF  ST.  PAUL'S  SCHOOL     29 

tongues,  which  we  will  that  they  shall  learu  by  heart,  that 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  tongues,  they  may  also  learn  their 
duty  towards  God  and  man." 

Dean  Colet  (1509)  had  prescribed  for  his  famous 
school  at  St.  Paul's,  ordinances  which  furnished  a 
model  for  many  of  the  sixteenth  century  foundation 
deeds  and  was  fairly  characteristic  of  the  revived 
taste  for  learning  which  prevailed  at  that  time. 

"  I  will  that  the  children  Icarne  first  above  all  the  Caie- 
chizon  in  Englishe,  and  after  the  Accidens,  that  I  made  or 
some  other,  if  any  be  better  for  the  purpose,  to  induce 
children  more  speedily  to  Latin  speche.  And  then  Insti- 
tutum  Christiani  Hominis  which  that  learned  Erasmus 
made  at  my  request,  and  the  book  called  Cojyia  of  the 
same  Erasmus.  And  then  other  authors,  Christian,  as 
Prudentius  and  Proha  and  Sedulius  and  Juvencus  and 
Paptista  Mantuanus,  and  such  others  as  shall  be  thought 
convenient,  and  most  to  purpose  unto  the  true  Latin  speche. 
All  BarbarT/,  all  corruption,  all  Latin  adulterate  which 
ignorant  blind  fooles  brought  into  this  world,  and  with  the 
same  hath  distayned  and  poisoned  the  very  Roman  tongue 
which  in  the  time  of  Tully  and  Sallust  and  Virgil  and 
Terence  was  used,  which  also  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Ambrose 
and  St.  Austin  and  many  holy  doctors  learned  in  their 
times,  I  utterly  bannyshe  and  exclude  out  of  the  schole ; 
and  charge  the  Masters  that  they  teche  always  that  is  beste 
and  instruct  the  children  in  Greke  and  redynge  Latin,  in 
redynge  unto  them  such  authors  that  hath  with  wisdom 
joyned  the  pure  chaste  eloquence." 

"That  they  teche  always  that  is  beste,"  —  This  is  a 
high  and  generous  utterance  and  represents  fairly  the 
spirit  of  the  Renaissance  and  of  the  founders  of  gram- 


30  THOMAS    A  UNO  LI) 

mar  schools.  It  is  because  Latin  and  Greek  were  the 
best  intellectual  aids  then  known,  and  the  keys  to  all 
the  knowledge  then  best  worth  having,  that  these  lan- 
guages formed  the  staple  of  a  gentleman's  training. 
No  higher  conception  of  a  liberal  education  could 
possibly  be  formed  tlian  that  each  age  should  furnish 
its  youth  with  its  best.  But  this  object  is  to  be 
attained  by  imitating  the  spirit  rather  than  the  letter 
of  founder's  statutes,  and  by  such  a  study  of  the  needs 
and  circumstances  of  our  own  age  as  may  enable  us 
to  do  for  our  contemporaries  what  Colet  and  Grindal 
sought  to  do  for  theirs,  and  what  they  would  probably 
have  done  had  they  lived  now. 

It  cannot  be  claimed  for  Arnold  that  he  was  eager 
to  emancipate  himself  from  the  traditions  thus  inher- 
ited from  the  sixteenth  century.  We  cannot  concede 
to  him  the  character  of  a  great  reformer  or  revolution- 
ist in  the  sense  in  which  Comenius,  Kousseau,  Locke, 
or  Pestalozzi  was  entitled  to  one  of  those  designations. 
He  was  not  a  realist,  but  essentially  a  "  humanist "  of 
the  type  of  Milton.  He  accepted  tlie  traditions  of  the 
long  succession  of  English  teachers,  from  Ascham  and 
Colet  down  to  lUisby  and  Keate,  in  favour  of  making 
the  study  of  language,  and  particularly  tlie  languages 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  the  staple  of  a  liberal  education. 
But,  like  Milton,  lie  rebelled  strongl}^  against  the 
wooden,  mechanical,  and  pedantic  fashion  in  wliich 
those  languages  were  often  taught,  as  if  the  attain- 
ment C)f  ])roficiency  in  tliom  were  an  end  in  itself  and 
not  tlie  means  to  some  higher  end.  Milton  had  pro- 
tested against  tlie  "  jireposterous  exactions  by  which 


A  FOLLOWER   OF   MILTON  31 

the  empty  wits  of  cliiklren  were  forced  to  compose 
themes,  verses,  and  orations,  which  are  the  acts  of 
ripest  judgement;  and  were  thus  mocked  and  deluded 
with  ragged  notions  and  babblements  while  they  ex- 
pected worthy  and  delightful  knowledge."^  He 
would  indeed  have  tlie  pupil  introduced  to  a  great 
variety  of  Greek  and  Eoman  authors,  poets,  philoso- 
phers, and  orators,  but  mainly  that  through  and  by 
means  of  these  writers,  he  might  obtain  access  to  the 
best  thought  and  culture  which  the  world  could  af- 
ford, and  so  become  acquainted  with  history  and 
political  science,  witli  logic,  with  the  principles  of 
law  and  morals,  with  geometry  and  natural  philoso- 
phy, with  the  story  of  heroes  and  statesmen,  so  as  to 
"stir  up  learners  with  high  hopes  of  becoming  brave 
men  and  worthy  patriots  dear  to  God  and  famous  to 
all  ages."  In  like  manner  Arnold,  while  founding 
his  whole  educational  system  on  the  study  of  the 
ancient  languages,  sought  mainly  to  use  those  lan- 
guages as  instruments  for  a  large  extension  of  the 
range  of  subjects  beyond  the  traditional  routine. 
Greek  and  Latin  were  to  him  the  -n-ov  a-To>,  the  firm 
earth  on  which  he  sought  to  erect  a  fabric  in  which 
history,  poetry,  philosophy,  ethics,  love  of  truth, 
and  aspirations  after  nobleness  and  usefulness  should 
find  their  due  place. 

Accordingly  we  are  not  to  expect  from  him  any 
attempt  to  dissociate  himself   from    the   traditional 
belief  of  scholars  that,  after  all,  knowledge  of  lan- 
guage was  the  truest  measure  of  a  boy's  ability  and 
1  Letter  to  Master  Samuel  Hartlib. 


32  THOMAS  AIJNOLI) 

promise.  In  classifying  new  pupils,  lie  would  not 
Lave  cared  to  adopt  the  multifarious  method  of  mod- 
ern entrance  examinations,  with  their  options  and 
alternatives.  The  form  into  wliidi  a  m-w  scholar 
was  to  be  entered  was  determined  by  his  acipiaint- 
ance  with  grammar  and  vocabulary,  and  by  little 
else.  When  the  little  Arthur  Stanley,  at  the  ago 
of  thirteen,  went  up  to  llugb^',  and  had  concluded  his 
first  awful  visit  to  the  Doctor,  he  wrote  to  his  sister 
Mary,  "  Papa  and  I  walked  to  Dr.  Arnold's,  and  pres- 
ently Mrs.  Arnold  came  in;  she  was  very  nice  indeed. 
At  last  came  tlie  Doctor  himself,  but  I  certainly 
sliould  not  have  taken  liim  for  a  doctor.  He  was 
very  pleasant  and  did  not  look  old.  "When  Papa 
asked  him  whether  I  could  be  examined,  he  said  that 
if  I  would  walk  into  the  next  room  he  would  do  it 
himself;  so  of  course  I  went  with  him,  with  a  feeling 
like  that  when  I  am  going  to  have  a  tooth  drawn.  So 
he  took  down  a  Homer,  and  I  read  about  half  a  dozen 
lines,  and  the  same  with  Virgil;  he  then  asked  me  a 
little  about  my  Latin  verses,  and  set  me  down  without 
more  ado  in  the  great  book  as  placed  in  the  fourth 
form.  I  felt  such  a  wciglit  off  my  mind  when  that 
was  done."* 

In  Arnold's  own  account  of  tlie  school,  contributed 
to  the  Journal  of  Education,  1834,  he  describes  at 
length  its  general  aims  and  methods.  He  sets  forth 
a  graduated  schem(>  of  insti-uetion  extending  from  the 
first  to  the  sixth  fonii.  It  w  ill  suffice  liere  to  give  in 
1  Li/c  of  Dean  Sdmlci),  \o\.  I. 


PLAN   OF   SCHOOL   WORK 


33 


detail  tlie  coixrse  of  the  first,  tlie  fourth,  and  the 
sixth,  since  the  character  of  the  intermediate  exer- 
cises may  be  readily  inferred  from  them: 


Classical  Divisiox. 

Language. 

Scripture. 

Htst07-y. 

Latin  Grammar 
and  Delectus. 

Church  Catechism 
and  Abridgement  of 
New  Testament 
History. 

Markham's 
England. 

3 

Jischylus, 
Prometheus. 
Virgil,  Mn.  11. 
and  III. 

Cicero,  de  Anii- 
citia. 

Acts  in  the  Greek 
Testament. 
St.  John  in  the  Eng- 
lish Bible.     Ol.l 
Testament  History. 

Part  of  Xenophon's 
Hellenics.       Floras 
HI.  to  IV.      History 
of  Greece,   U.K.S. 
Markham's    France 
from  Philip  de 
Valois.       Growth  of 
Italy  and  Germany. 

1 

X 
H 

r5 

Part  of  Virgil 
and  Homer. 
One  or  more 
Greek  Trage- 
dies.    Orations 
of  Demosthenes. 
Cicero  against 
Ver)'es.     Part 
of  Aristotle's 
Ethics. 

One  of  the  Prophets 
in  the  Septuagint 
Version.    Parts  of 
the  New  Testament. 

Parts  of  Thucydides 
and  Arian. 
Parts  of  Tacitus. 
Parts  of  Russell's 
Modern  Europe. 

Mathematical  Division. 

French  Division. 

1^ 

Tables.      Addition  to  Divi- 
sion.   Simple  and  Compound 
Reduction. 

Hamel's  Exercises  up  to 
the  Auxiliary  Verb. 

34 


THOMAS   AK.Nol.l) 


i 

X 

jNIathematical  Division. 

Fhknch  Division. 

r    Decimals. 

Involution  and  Evolution. 
Elementary  Algebra.     Bi- 
nomial Theorem.     Euclid, 
Book  I. 

Hamel's  Second  Part. 
Syntax  of  Pronouns. 
La  Fontaine's  Fables. 

f    Eucli(UII.-VI. 

Simple  and  Quadratic 
Equations.    Trigonometry. 
Conic  Sections. 

Parts  of  Guizot's  Histoire 
de  la  Kevolution  de  I'An- 
frlettn-re,     and      Miunet's 
Histoire  de  la  Revolution 
Frani/aise. 

The  article  proceeds  to  defend  the  principle  on 
which  so  large  a  proportion  of  the  time  and  attention 
are  devoted  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics.  The 
writer  admits  frankly  that  the  ''first  origin  of  classi- 
cal education  affords  in  itself  no  reasons  for  continu- 
ing it  now.  When  Latin  and  Greek  were  almost 
the  only  M^ritten  languages  of  civilized  man,  it  is 
manifest  that  they  must  have  furnished  the  subjects 
of  all  liberal  education.  The  question,  therefore,  is 
wholly  changed  since  the  growth  of  a  complete  litera- 
ture in  other  languages ;  since  France  and  Italy  and 
Germany  and  England  have  each  produced  tlieir  phi- 
losophers, their  poets,  and  their  historians  wortliy  to 
be  placed  on  the  same  level  with  those  of  Greece  and 
Rome."  He  shows  that,  "although  there  is  not  the 
same  reason  now  which  existed  three  or  four  cen- 
turies ago  for  the  study  of  Greek  and  Roman  litera- 
ture, there  are  others  no  less  substantial."  These 
reasons  he  finds  in  tlie  familiar  facts  that  the  gram- 
matical forms  of  Greek  and  Latin  are  at  once  perfect 


GREEK   AND   LATIN   LANGUAGES  35 

and  incapable  of  being  uuclerstood  without  long  and 
minute  attention;  that  the  study  of  them  involves  the 
general  principles  of  grammar,  and  that  their  peculiar 
excellences  illustrate  the  conditions  under  which  lan- 
guage may  become  clear  and  forcible  and  beautiful. 
And  apart  from  the  linguistic  training  afforded,  he 
set  a  peculiar  value  on  the  general  broadening  of  the 
intellectual  horizon  Avhich  attended  the  study  of  the 
literature  and  history  of  the  ancient  world. 

"Expel  Greek  and  Latin  from  your  schools,"  he  says, 
"and  you  confine  the  views  of  the  existing  generation  to 
themselves  and  their  immediate  predecessors,  you  will  cut  off 
so  many  centuries  of  the  world's  experience,  and  place  us  in 
the  same  state  as  if  the  human  race  had  first  come  into 
existence  in  the  year  1500.  .  .  .  Aristotle  and  Plato  and 
Thucydides  and  Cicero  and  Tacitus  are  most  untruly  called 
ancient  writers.  They  are  virtually  our  own  countrymen 
and  contemporaries,  but  have  the  advantage  which  is  enjoyed 
by  intelligent  travellers,  that  their  observation  has  been  ex- 
ercised in  a  field  out  of  the  reach  of  conmiou  men,  and  that 
having  thus  seen  in  a  manner  with  our  eyes  what  we  cannot 
see  for  ourselves,  their  conclusions  are  such  as  bear  upon 
our  own  circumstances ;  while  their  information  has  all  the 
charm  of  novelty,  and  all  the  value  of  a  mass  of  new  and 
pertinent  facts,  illustrative  of  the  great  science  of  the  nature 
of  civilized  man." 

In  reply  to  the  familiar  argument  that  men  in  after 
life  often  throw  their  Greek  and  Latin  aside,  and  that 
this  fact  shows  the  uselessness  of  such  early  studies, 
the  article  goes  on  to  emphasize  a  view  which  is  too 
often  lost  sight  of  in.  popular  discussion,  whether  in 
relation  to  the  higher  or  the  lower  departments  of 


36  THOMAS    AKXOLl) 

educational  work.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  critics 
wlio  seek  to  discredit  the  arithmetic  and  geograjthy 
and  the  grammar  of  the  elementary  school  by  urging 
that  much  of  the  knowledge  so  acquired  is  soon  for- 
gotten. No  doubt  it  is.  So  is  a  great  part  of  all  the 
knowledge  received  by  learners  at  all  ages,  and  in 
reference  to  all  subjects.  But  this  does  not  i)rove 
that  the  acquisition  is  barren  or  useless.  It  may  not 
survive  in  the  exact  form  in  which  it  has  been  first 
imparted.  But  it  has  for  tlie  time  served  its  pur- 
pose; it  has  helped  to  put  the  mind  into  a  better  atti- 
tude for  the  acquisition  of  further  knowledge,  and  it 
has  left  behind  it  such  a  residuum  of  thought  and 
experience  as  will  make  it  easy  to  revert  to  tlie  sub- 
ject and  learn  it  anew,  if  special  occasion  for  it  should 
arise.  In  fact,  nothing  which  is  honestly  learned, 
and  which  forms  a  legitimate  part  of  a  scheme  of 
instruction  having  an  organic  unity  and  a  clear  pur- 
pose of  its  own,  can  ever  be  rightly  regarded  as  worth- 
less ;  and  no  time  spent  in  acquiring  such  details  is 
ever  wasted,  even  though  they  may  have  disappeared 
from  the  memory  and  left  no  visible  result.  Arnold's 
argument  was  sound  and  admits  of  far  wider  applica- 
tion than  to  the  particular  department  of  education 
to  which  lie  was  especially  interested.  "  It  does  not 
follow  that  Avhen  a  man  lays  aside  his  Latin  and 
Greek  books,  he  forgets  also  all  that  he  had  ever 
gained  from  tliem.  Tliis,  however,  is  so  far  from 
being  the  case,  that  even  where  the  results  of  a  clas- 
sical education  are  least  tangible  and  least  appreci- 
ated, even  by  the  individual  liimsclf,  still  the  mind 


CLASSICAL   STUDIES    VINDICATED  37 

often  retains  nmcli  of  the  effect  of  its  early  studies  in 
the  general  liberality  of  its  tastes  and  eomjjarative 
comprehensiveness  of  its  views  and  actions." 

But  all  this  presupposes  that  the  teaching  is  intel- 
ligent and  that  the  teacher  has  so  far  emancipated 
himself  from  routine  as  to  be  able  to  discriminate 
between  what  is  mechanical  and  sterile,  and  that 
which  is  formative  and  vital  in  the  classical  tradi- 
tion. The  mere  scholar,  he  contended,  cannot  pos- 
sibly communicate  to  his  pupils  the  main  advantage 
of  a  classical  education. 

"  The  knowledge  of  the  past  is  valuable,  because  without 
it  our  knowledge  of  tlie  present  and  of  the  future  must  be 
scanty  :  but  if  the  knowledge  of  the  past  be  confined  wholly 
to  itself:  if  instead  of  being  made  to  bear  upon  things 
around  us,  it  be  totally  isolated  from  them,  and  so  disguised 
by  vagueness  and  misapprehension  as  to  appear  incapable  of 
illustrating  them,  then  indeed  it  becomes  little  better  than 
laborious  trifling,  and  they  who  declaim  against  it  may  be 
fully  forgiven."  ^ 

The  characteristic  of  Arnold  as  a  schoolmaster  was 
that  he  was  much  more  concerned  to  put  new  life, 
freshness,  and  meaning  into  the  received  methods  \^ 
than  to  invent  new  ones.  What  is  imitable  in  his 
system  —  if  system  it  may  be  called  —  is  not  a  new 
educational  creed  or  practice,  but  the  infusion  into 
the  system  of  a  new  spirit,  one  of  enthusiasm,  of 
clear  insight  into  the  inner  intellectual  and  moral 
needs  of  scholars,  and  of  careful  introspection  in 
reference  to  those  studies  which  had  enriched  his 
1  Arnold's  MisceUaneoua  Works,  p.  350. 


38  Tllo.MAS   AKNUL1> 

own  cliaracter  and  intellect  most.  Dean  Stanley 
says  of  liiin,  "He  was  the  tirst  Englishman  who  drew 
attention  in  our  public  schools  to  the  historical, 
political,  and  philosophical  value  of  philology  and  of 
the  ancient  writers  as  distinguished  from  the  mere 
verbal  criticism  and  elegant  scholarship  of  the  last 
century."  This  may  be  illustrated  in  his  treatment 
of  composition  exercises,  of  which  he  says: 

"There  are  Exorcises  in  Composition  in  Greek  and  Latin 
prose,  Greek  and  Latin  verse,  and  Englisli  i)rose  as  in  other 
large  classical  schools.  In  the  subjects  given  for  original 
composition  in  the  higher  forms  there  is  a  considerable  va- 
riety, —  liistorical  descriptions  of  any  remarkable  events, 
geographical  descriptions  of  countries,  imaginary  speeches 
and  letters  supposed  to  be  spoken  or  written  on  some  great 
question,  or  under  some  memorable  circuinstanocs ;  etymo- 
logical accounts  of  words  in  different  languages,  and  criti- 
cisms on  different  books  are  found  to  offer  an  advantageous 
variety  to  the  essays  on  moral  subjects  to  which  the  boy's 
prose  composition  has  sometimes  been  confined."^ 

Dean  Stanley  gives  in  an  interesting  appendix  a 
selection  of  the  themes  chosen  for  composition  exer- 
cises, from  which  a  few  characteristic  examples  may 
be  cited  here : 

(a)  The  differences  between  atlvantages  and  merits. 

(b)  Conversation  between  Thomas  A(piinas,  James 
Watt,  and  Walter  Scott. 

(c)  The  principal  events  and  men  of  England, 
France,  and  (Jerniany  and   Ilollanil  a.i>.    IdOl). 

1  Quarterly  Jouruuli'f  Kducalion,  1834. 


GREEK   AND   LATIN   VEKSE   MAKING  39 

(cZ)  How  far  the  dramatic  faculty  is  compatible 
with  a  love  of  truth. 

(e)  De  seculo,  quo  Esais  vaticinia  sua  edidit. 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  is  very  little  of  the  icono- 
clastic temper  in  this  description  of  his  methods.  He 
did  not  even  attack  the  time-honoured  superstition 
that  the  manufacture  of  Latin  and  Greek  verses  was 
the  ultimate  test  and  crown  of  scholarship.  It  is 
true  he  did  not  like  it.  He  rebelled,  as  Milton  did, 
against  a  theory  which  imposed  on  young  boys  a  task 
for  which  they  were  wholly  unfit;  he  was  conscious 
of  the  preposterous  absurdity  of  regarding  the  fitting 
together  of  longs  and  shorts  as  a  true  Gradus  ad 
Parnassam,  but  he  nevertheless  sought  to  make  the 
best  of  the  method  and  to  clothe  the  dry  bones  with 
flesh  and  blood. 

But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  he  ever  fully  real- 
ized the  enormous  injury  done  to  the  rank  and  file  of 
boys  by  this  antiquated  and  soulless  exercise;  the 
inevitable  weariness  and  disgust  produced  by  it;  the 
false  and  ignoble  ideal  of  scholarship  which  it  set 
before  them,  or  the  intellectual  habits  which  it  gener- 
ates. An  eminent  public  schoolmaster  of  a  later 
generation  has  had  the  courage  to  speak  with  great 
frankness  on  this  point.     He  says : 

"Without  a  conception  of  rhythm,  without  a  gleam  of 
imagiuation,  without  a  touch  of  fancy,  boys  are  set  down  to 
write  verses,  and  these  verses  are  to  be  in  an  unknown 
tongue  in  which  they  scarcely  possess  a  germ  of  the  scantiest 
vocabulary,  or  a  mastery  of  the  most  simple  construction ; 
and  further,  it  is  to  be  in  strict  imitation  of  poets  of  whom, 


40  Tllo.MAS   AKNol.n 

at  their  best,  tlioy  have  only  read  a  few  score  of  lines.  .  .  . 
The  pupil  is  reriuirt'il  umlcr  all  the  inexorable  exigencies  of 
metre  to  reproduce  in  artificial  and  phraseological  Latin  the 
highly  elaborate  thoughts  of  grown  men,  to  piece  their  muti- 
lated fancies,  and  reproduce  their  fragmentary  conceits.  In 
most  cases  the  very  possibility  of  doing  so  depends  on  his 
hitting  upon  a  particular  epithet,  which  presents  the  requi- 
site combination  of  longs  and  shorts,  or  on  his  evolving  some 
special  and  often  recondite  turn  of  thought  and  expres.sion. 
Supposing,  for  instance  (to  take  a  very  ea.sy  line,  typical  of 
many  thousands  of  lines),  he  has  to  write  a  pentameter. 

'  Where  Acheron  rolls  waters.' 

He  will  feel  that  his  entire  task  is  to  write  where  somethi'nff 
Acheron  rolls  soitufhiti;/  waters.  His  one  object  is  to  get  in 
the  somethiufj  which  shall  be  of  the  right  shape  to  screw 
into  the  line.  The  epithet  may  be  ludicrous  ;  it  may  l»c 
grotesque,  but  provided  he  can  make  his  brick  he  does  not 
trouble  himself  about  tlie  quality  of  his  straw,  and  it  mat- 
ters nothing  to  him,  if  it  be  a  brick  such  as  could  not  by  any 
possibility  be  used  in  any  human  building.  It  is  a  literal 
fact,  that  a  boy  very  rarely  reads  through  the  English  he  is 
doing,  or  knows,  when  it  has  been  turncil  into  Latin,  what  it 
is  all  about ;  hence,  for  the  next  year  or  two  his  life  resolves 
itself  into  a  boundless  hunt  after  epithets  of  the  right 
shape,  to  be  screwed  into  the  greatest  number  of  jdaces  ;  a 
practice  exactly  analogous  to  the  putting  together  of  Chinese 
puzzles,  only  producing  a  much  less  homogeneous  and  con- 
gruous result."  ^ 

Whatever  may  be  urged  in  favour  of  the  theory  of 
verse  composition  as  a  youthful  effort  of  imagination, 
as  a  discipline  in  taste  and  litcn-ary  discrimination, 

1  Dean  Farrar  in  Esxni/s  on  <i  Llhrral  Kihictitioii,  p.  213. 


I 

I 


THE   MANUFACTURE   OF   LATIN   VERSES         41 

or  in  the  right  choice  and  use  of  words,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  in  practice  the  "sad  mechanic  exer- 
cise "  is  wearisome  and  uninspiring,  and  involves  an 
appalling  waste  of  time.  There  was,  for  example,  a 
common  form  of  exercise,  called  a  "vulgus,"  a  sub- 
ject being  given  out,  and  a  fixed  number  of  eight  or 
ten  lines  being  required  to  be  produced  and  recited  in 
class  next  morning.  There  was  also  in  common  use 
a  collection  of  traditionary  vulguses,  consisting  of 
past  exercises  copied  and  accumulated  and  used  over 
and  over  again  with  small  and  colourable  alterations. 
Even  those  boys  who  did  the  work  honestly  cared  for 
little  except  to  piece  together  a  few  lines  which  would 
scan  tolerably;  but  many  omitted  to  take  the  trouble, 
and  got  younger  and  cleverer  boys  to  write  for  them. 
Like  all  forms  of  teaching  which  do  not  awaken  the 
genuine  interest  of  the  scholar  or  challenge  his 
sympathies,  the  system  of  compulsory  verse-making 
lends  itself  with  peculiar  facility  to  school-boy  arti- 
fices and  evasive  tricks.  The  copying  out  of  another 
boy's  vulgus  or  verse  exercise,  and  the  surreptitious 
use  of  "  cribs,"  became  so  common  that  it  was  very  hard 
even  for  an  honest  boy  to  convince  himself  that  they 
were  wrong.  IMr.  Hughes,  who  is  certainly  not  an 
unfriendly  witness  where  the  public  school  traditions 
are  concerned,  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Harry  East, 
who,  on  the  whole,  was  meant  to  represent  a  lad  of 
average  ability,  with  a  code  of  honour  which,  if  not 
exalted,  was  at  least  respectable,  a  very  brief  state- 
ment of  the  school-boy  creed  on  this  point : 


42  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

"  It's  a  fair  trial  of  skill  between  us  and  the  masters,  like 
a  match  at  football  or  a  battle.  We're  natural  enemies 
in  school,  that's  a  fact  We've  got  to  learn  so  much  Latin 
and  Greek  and  do  so  many  verses,  and  they've  got  to  see 
that  we  do  it.  If  you  can  slip  the  collar  and  do  so  much 
less  without  getting  caught,  that's  one  to  us.  If  they  can 
get  more  out  of  you,  or  catch  us  shirking,  that's  one  to 
them.  All's  fair  in  war  but  lying.  If  I  run  my  luck 
against  theirs  and  go  into  school  without  looking  at  my 
lessons,  why  ain  I  a  snob  or  a  sneak?  I  don't  tell  the 
master  I  have  learned  it;  he's  got  to  find  out  whether  I 
have  or  not.  What's  he  paid  for  1  If  he  calls  me  up  and 
I  get  floored,  he  makes  me  write  it  out  in  CJreek  and  Eng- 
lish —  very  good  ;  he's  caught  nic,  and  I  don't  grumble.  I 
grant  you,  if  I  go  and  snivel  to  him  and  tell  him  I've  really 
tried  to  learn  it,  but  found  it  so  hard  without  a  translation, 
or  say  I've  had  a  tootliache  or  any  humbug  of  that  kind,  I'm 
a  snob  —  that's  my  school  morality.  It's  served  me  for 
these  five  years,  and  it's  all  clear  and  fair,  no  mistake  about 
it.  We  understand  it,  and  they  understand  it,  and  I  do 
not  what  wc  arc  to  come  to  with  any  otlier."^ 

It  is  riglit,  however,  to  say  that  later  experience 
modified  Arnold's  views  resi)ecting  the  educative 
value  of  verse-eom})Ositioii.  In  a  letter  to  ]\Ir.  Jus- 
tice Coleridge  in  1833,  he  said: 

"You  will  be  amused  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  becom- 
ing more  and  more  a  convert  to  the  advantages  of  Latin  and 
Greek  verse,  and  more  suspicious  of  the  mere  fact  system  ; 
that  would  cram  with  knowledge  of  particular  things,  and 
call  it  information.  My  own  lessons  with  the  Sixth  Form 
are  directed  now  to  tlie  best  of  my  power  to  the  furnishing 
rules  or  fornudio  for  them  to  work  with,  e.;/.  rules  to  be 

1  Tout  BroioCs  School  JJai/f,  Cliap.  VII. 


ARNOLD'S  CHANGE   OF   OPINION  43 

observed  iu  translation,  principles  of  taste  as  to  the  choice 
of  English  words,  as  to  the  keeping  or  varying  idioms  and 
metaphors,  etc.,  or  in  history,  rules  of  evidence,  or  general 
forms  for  the  dissection  of  campaigns,  or  the  estimating  the 
importance  of  wars,  revolutions,  etc.  This,  together  with 
the  opening  as  it  were  the  sources  of  knowledge,  by  telling 
them  where  they  can  find  such  and  such  things,  and  giving 
them  a  notion  of  criticism,  not  to  swallow  things  whole  as 
the  scholars  of  an  earlier  period  too  often  did,  is  what  I  am 
labouring  at,  much  more  than  at  giving  information.  And 
the  composition  is  mending  decidedly,  though  speaking  to 
an  Etonian  I  am  well  aware  that  our  amended  state  would 
be  with  you  a  very  degenerate  one.  But  we  are  looking  up 
certainly,  and  pains  are  taking  in  the  Lower  Forms,  of 
which  we  shall,  I  think,  soon  see  the  fruit."  * 

It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  this  partial  re- 
cantation does  much  to  prove  that  the  system  was 
a  good  one.  In  teaching,  that  system  which  is  best 
administered  is  best,  and  Arnold  had  the  power  of 
putting  a  soul  into  a  method  which,  in  other  hands, 
might  prove  sterile  and  mechanical.  The  arguments 
against  verse-making  as  an  intellectual  exercise  for 
common  use  and  under  the  treatment  of  average 
teachers  remain  unanswered;  and  their  force  is  no- 
wise diminished  by  the  fact  that  now  and  then  an 
enthusiastic  and  inspiring  head  master  can  contrive 
to  make  the  exercise  effective. 

To  another  of  the  traditional  usages  of  the  classical 
schools  —  the  practice  of  construing  —  Arnold  had  less 
scruple  in  expressing  his  emphatic  objection.  He 
regarded  this  form  of  exercise  as  another  illustration 

1  Letter  LXXIV. 


44  THOMAS   AKXHLD 

of  the  tendency  to  neglect  the  literarj'-  art  for  the 
sake  of  those  formalities  of  detail  which  concern  the 
material  form  rather  than  tlie  spiritual  meaning  of 
literature.  lie  thought  that  the  efforts  of  teachers 
to  secure  attention  to  the  parts  of  a  sentence  often 
made  it  difficult  for  a  learner  to  understand  its  sig- 
nificance as  a  whole. 

"Every  lesson  in  Greek  or  Latin,"  he  said,  "may,  or 
ought  to  be  made  a  lesson  in  English ;  the  translation  of 
every  sentence  in  Demosthenes  or  Tacitus  is  proj)erly  an 
exercise  in  extemporaneous  Englisli  composition  ;  a  problem 
how  to  express  with  equal  brevity,  clearness,  and  force  in 
our  own  language,  the  thought  which  the  original  author 
has  so  admirably  expressed  in  his.  But  the  system  of  con- 
struing, fur  from  assisting,  is  positively  injurious  to  our 
knowledge  and  use  of  EngUsh ;  it  accustoms  it  to  a  tame 
and  involved  arrangement  of  our  words,  and  to  the  substitu- 
tion of  foreign  idioms  in  the  place  of  such  as  are  national ; 
it  obliges  us  to  caricature  every  sentence  that  we  render,  by 
turning  what  is,  in  its  original  dress,  licautiful  and  natural, 
into  sometliing  wliicli  is  neither  Greek  nor  English,  stiff, 
obsciu-e,  and  fiat,  exem])Ufyiug  all  the  faults  inrident  to 
language  and  exchuling  every  excellence.  Tiie  exercise  of 
translation,  on  the  otlier  liand,  meaning  by  translation  the 
expressing  of  an  entire  sentence  of  a  foreign  language  by  an 
entire  sentence  of  our  own,  as  opposed  to  the  rcntlt-ring  .sepa- 
rately into  English  either  every  separate  word,  or  at  most 
only  parts  of  the  sentence,  whether  larger  or  smaller,  the 
exercise  of  translation  is  capabk'  of  furnishing  improvement 
to  students  of  every  age  according  to  the  measure  of  their 
abilities  and  knowledge." ' 

The  wlude  of  the  paper  from  which  this  extract  is 

1  The  use  of  the  chissics — ^fiscell((lu■uus  Wurks,  pp.  ;5."il  «7  srq. 


CONSTRUINti     VEESUS  TRANSLATION  45 

taken  well  deserves  the  attentive  study  of  those 
engaged  in  the  teaching  of  Latin  and  Greek,  as  it 
illustrates,  in  several  ways,  the  relation  between  the 
study  of  separate  words  and  grammatical  forms  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  culture  of  the  language  faculty 
and  the  development  of  a  true  literary  taste  on  the 
other.  Unless  Arnold  could  establish  a  real  rapport 
between  the  learning  of  an  ancient  language  and  a 
fuller  command  of  the  resources  of  our  own,  he  was 
disposed  to  regard  what  is  called  mere  classical  learn- 
ing as  a  barren  and  pedantic  accomplishment.  For 
example,  he  insisted  on  the  importance  of  following 
in  English  the  analogy  required  by  the  age  and  char- 
acter of  the  original  writer;  e.g.  "In  translating 
Homer  hardly  any  words  should  be  employed  except 
Saxon  and  the  oldest  and  simplest  of  those  which  are 
of  French  origin,  and  the  language  should  consist  of 
a  series  of  simple  propositions  connected  with  one 
another  only  by  the  most  inartificial  conjunctions. 
In  translating  the  tragedians,  the  words  should  be 
principally  Saxon,  but  mixed  with  many  of  French 
or  foreign  origin,  like  the  language  of  Shakespeare 
and  the  other  dramatists  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
and  James  I.  .  .  .  So,  also,  in  translating  the  prose 
writers  of  Greece  and  Rome  ;  Herodotus  shoiild  be 
rendered  in  the  style  and  language  of  the  chroniclers; 
Thucydides  in  that  of  Bacon  or  Hooker;  while  De- 
mosthenes, Cicero,  Caesar,  and  Tacitus  require  a  style 
completely  modern,  the  perfection  of  the  English  lan- 
guage such  as  we  now  speak  and  write  it,  varied  only 
to   suit   the    individual   differences   of   the    different 


wri 


THOMAS   AUXOLI) 

ters,  but  in  its  rango  of  words,  and  in  its  idioms, 
substantially  the  same." 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  with  these  views  those 
of  an  older  schoolmaster,  Bowyer,  of  Christ's  Hos- 
pital, of  whom  one  of  his  most  illustrious  pupils 
speaks  with  affectionate  gratitude. 

"I  enjoyed,"  says  Coleridge,  " tlie  inestimable  advantiigc 
of  a  very  sensible,  tliough  at  the  same  time  a  very  severe 
master.  He  early  moulded  my  taste  to  the  preference  of 
Demosthenes  to  Cicero,  of  Homer  to  Theocritus  and  Virgil, 
and  again  of  Virgil  to  Ovid.  He  liabituated  me  to  compare 
Lucretius  (in  such  extracts  as  I  tlien  read),  Terence,  and 
above  all  the  chaster  poetry  of  Catullus,  not  only  with  the 
Roman  poets  of  the  so-called  silver  and  brazen  age,  but  with 
even  those  of  tlic  Augustan  era,  and  on  grounds  of  plain 
sense  and  universal  logic  to  see  and  assert  the  superiority  of 
the  former  in  the  trutli  and  naturalness  both  of  their  thoughts 
and  diction.  At  tlie  same  tune  that  we  were  studying  the 
Greek  tragic  poets,  lie  made  us  read  Shakespeare  and  Milton 
as  lessons,  and  they  were  the  lessons  too  which  required 
most  time  and  trouble  to  bring  up  so  as  to  escape  his  cen- 
sure. I  learned  from  him  that  poetry,  even  that  of  the 
loftiest  and  seemingly  tliat  of  the  wildest  ode.s,  had  a  logic 
of  its  own  as  .severe  as  that  of  science,  and  more  difficult 
because  more  subtle,  more  complex  and  more  dojiendent  on 
more  and  more  fugitive  causes.  In  the  tndy  great  poets  he 
would  say,  there  is  a  reason  assignable  not  only  for  every 
word,  but  for  tlie  position  of  every  word,  and  I  well  remem- 
ber that  availing  himself  of  the  synonyms  to  tlie  Homer  of 
Uidymus,  he  made  us  attempt  to  show,  witli  regard  to 
each,  why  it  would  not  have  answered  the  same  purpose, 
and  wherein  consisted  the  peculiar  fitness  of  the  word  in 
thi'  original  text."' 

'  ('oltridtit',  fliitf/rdphiii  Litirid-lit,  Cliap.  I. 


EDWARD   THRING'S   VIEW  47 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  Arnold's  nnqualified 
contempt  for  the  practice  of  construing,  and  his  pref- 
erence for  translating,  represent  the  final  result  of  all 
experience  in  reference  to  the  teaching  of  a  language. 
The  truth  is  that  both  processes,  in  their  due  measure 
and  proportion,  are  needed  for  the  thorough  compre- 
hension of  an  ancient  author.  There  can  be  no  real 
perception  of  the  meaning  of  a  sentence  as  a  whole, 
unless  the  learner  can,  if  challenged,  explain  the  sig- 
nificance of  each  single  word  and  the  part  it  plan's 
in  the  final  result.  Readers  of  Mr.  Thring's  rather 
puzzling  but  inspiring  book  will  remember  what  im- 
portance he  attached  to  what  he  called  "sentence 
anatomy,"  and  will  understand  why,  in  the  practice 
of  that  famous  teacher,  the  construing  lesson  assumed 
greater  importance  than  in  Arnold's  method.  Fun- 
damentally, however,  the  aims  of  both  teachers  were 
identical.  "The  ultimate  end,"  said  Thring,  "of  the 
study  of  the  classics,  is  to  make  the  learner  an  artist 
in  words  and  a  conscious  master  of  his  own  tongue."  ^ 
Arnold  regarded  the  conventional  method  largely 
practised  in  public  schools  as  ill  adapted  to  its  pro- 
fessed purpose,  and  in  reply  to  those  who  argued  that 
translation  without  construing  led  to  inaccuracy  and 
slovenliness,  urged  in  the  article  already  quoted,  that 

"  It  is  a  mere  chimera  to  suppose,  as  many  do,  that  what 
they  call  free  translation  is  a  convenient  cover  for  inaccurate 
scliolarship.  It  can  only  be  so  through  the  incompetence  or 
carelessness  of  the  teacher.     If  the  force  of  every  part  of 

1  Theory  and  Pvuctice  of  Teaching,  p.  111. 


48  TH<».MAS   AKNOIJ) 

the  sentence  be  not  fully  given,  tlie  translation  is  so  far 
faulty ;  but  idiomatic  translation,  much  more  than  literal,  is 
an  evidence  that  the  translator  does  see  the  force  of  the 
original,  and  it  should  be  remembered  that  the  very  object 
of  so  translating  is  to  preserve  the  spirit  of  an  author,  when 
it  would  be  lost  or  weakened  by  translating  literally ;  but 
where  a  literal  translation  happens  to  be  faithful  to  tlie 
spirit,  then,  of  course,  it  should  be  adopted,  and  any  omis- 
sion or  misrepresentation  of  any  part  of  the  bearing  of  the 
original  does  not  preserve  its  spirit,  but,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
sacrifices  it  and  is  not  to  be  called  free  translaticm,  but  rather 
imperfect,  blundering,  or  in  a  word  bad  translation." 

A  later  writer,  distinguished  no  less  by  success  as 
a  teacher  than  by  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  the 
philosophy  of  education,  has  embodied  the  common- 
sense  view  of  the  whole  question  in  one  or  two  vigor- 
ous sentences.     Mr.  Storr  says : 

"  Let  me  urge  you  to  set  your  faces  as  a  rock  against  the 
system  of  literal  construing,  which  not  only  prevails  in  most 
class-rooms,  but  is  even  justified  and  encouraged  by  pedantic 
and  unscrupulous  schoolmasters.  The  head-masters  have 
lately  been  telling  us  that  for  the  classically  trained  lx»y  Eng- 
lish literature  is  of  the  nature  of  a  sujjerfluity,  a  sort  of  gild- 
ing the  refined  gold  of  Greek  or  painting  the  lily  of  Latiuity, 
that  the  best  way  of  learning  our  native  tongue  is  to  learn  to 
translate  Thucydides  and  Cicero,  and  to  turn  Shakespeare  and 
Tennyson  into  (Ireek  iambics  and  Latin  elegiacs.  The  theory 
is  too  ridiculous  to  need  repeating  here,  and  its  absurdity  is 
sufficiently  <lemonstrated  by  the  slipshod  and  ungranunati- 
cal  English  in  which  some  of  these  classically  trained  head- 
masters express  their  theories  on  English  Composition.  And 
yet  it  has  a  foundation  of  truth,  providi'il  always  that,  for  the 
first  stage,  idiomatic  English  is  insisted  on.  No  one,  after 
once  the  sentence  had  to  be  analysed,  would  ever  dream  of 


RELATION  OF  CLASSICAL  TO  OTHER  STUDIES     40 

translating  literally  Comment  vans  jiortez-vous  ?  but  pedantry- 
will  insist  on  boys  rendering  year  after  year  Latin  liistorical 
presents  by  English  presents,  Latin  ablative  absolutes  by 
the  absolute  construction  (that  is  the  commonest  of  all 
Latin  idioms),  by  turns  which  are  rare  in  English  and  only 
half  naturalised,  and  representing  Greek  redundancies  by 
English  synonyms." ' 

So,  although  to  the  last  the  study  of  language 
appeared  to  Arnold  the  best  available  instrument  for 
the  education  of  mankind,  it  was  not  mere  grainraar 
or  philology  which  seemed  to  him  the  most  fruitful 
part  of  linguistic  discipline,  but  the  indirect  effect  of 
the  study  on  the  cultivation  of  studies  other  than 
itself.  He  refused,  indeed,  to  recognize  the  making 
of  pentameters  and  sapphics  as  the  highest  of  human 
accomplishments,  or  a  false  quantity  as  the  unpar- 
donable sin:  but  by  seeking,  as  he  would  say,  to  make 
his  teaching  dynamical  rather  than  mechanical,  he 
found  in  Latin  and  Greek  exercises  the  means  of 
calling  forth  power,  of  cultivating  taste  and  charac- 
ter, right  ambition,  and  interest  in  great  and  high 
themes,  to  all  of  which  he  attached  more  value  than 
to  the  learning  of  a  language  |jer  se  or  to  any  mere 
information.  It  is  very  characteristic  of  him  and  of 
his  desire  to  connect  the  study  of  the  ancient  lan- 
guages with  the  progress  of  modern  thought,  that  he 
expressed  a  wish  for  a  cheap  edition  of  Bacon's 
Instauratio  Magna,  and  thought  he  could  make  it 
useful  not  merely  in  point  of  Latinity,  "by  setting 
fellows  to  correct  the  style  whenever  it  was  cumbrous 

1  Mr.  Francis  Storr,  in  the  Educational  Times,  Jnly,  1895. 

E 


60  'IIIOMAS   AKNOLD 

and  incorrect,"  but  also  as  a  means  of  familiarizing 
boys  with  the  inductive  i^rocess  and  with  the  temper 
of  mind  in  which  the  achievements  of  modern  science 
could  be  appreciated. 

Like  all  true  teachers,  from  Socrates  dowiiwards, 
he  relied  more  on  questioning  than  on  mere  didactics. 
His  Avhole  method,  says  Dean  Stanley,  was  founded 
on  the  principle  of  awakening  the  intellect  of  every 
individual  l)oy.  "As  a  general  rule,  he  never  gave 
information  except  as  a  kind  of  reward  for  an 
answer,  and  often  withheld  it  altogether  or  checked 
himself,  in  the  very  act  of  uttering  it,  from  a  sense 
that  those  Avhom  he  was  addressing  had  not  sufficient 
interest  or  sympatliy  to  entitle  them  to  receive  it. 
His  explanations  Avere  as  short  as  possible,  enough  to 
dispose  of  the  difficulty  and  no  more;  his  questions 
were  of  a  kind  to  call  the  attention  of  the  boys  to  the 
real  point  of  every  sul)ject,  and  to  disclose  to  them 
the  exact  boundaries  of  wliat  they  knew  or  did  not 
know.  With  regard  to  younger  boys  he  said,  *It  is 
a  great  mistake  to  think  that  they  should  nnderstand 
all  they  learn;  for  God  has  ordered  that  in  youth  the 
memory  should  act  vigorously,  independent  of  tlie 
understanding,  whereas  a  man  cannot  iisually  recol- 
lect a  thing  unless  he  understands  it.'  r>ut  in  pro- 
portion to  their  advance  in  the  school  he  tried  to 
cultivate  in  the  boys  a  habit  not  only  of  collecting 
facts,  but  of  expressing  themselves  with  facilit}',  and 
of  understanding  the  principles  on  which  the  facts 
rested.  'You  come  hero,'  he  said,  'not  to  read,  but 
to  learn  how  to  read.'"' 

'  yiaiiley,  (liap.  111. 


GENERAL  EDUCATIONAL  AIMS        51 

On  tlie  Avliole,  tlie  student  of  "  methodology  "  who 
searches  the  life  of  Arnold  for  tips  and  artifices 
whereby  classical  teaching  may  be  rendered  easier 
or  more  vital  is  likely  to  be  disappointed.  What- 
ever was  excellent  in  the  Rugby  method  of  classi- 
cal learning  lay  rather  in  the  man,  and  in  the  spirit 
in  whicli  he  worked,  than  in  the  communicable  form 
of  newly  invented  original  rules  and  systems.  His 
merit  consisted  mainly  in  the  fact  that  he  did  not 
mistake  means  for  ends  ;  that  he  kept  constantly 
in  sight  the  goal  to  which  all  true  education  sliould 
be  directed,  and  that  he  refused  to  attach  undue  im- 
portance to  conventions  and  usages  which  did  not  hel}) 
boys  to  arrive  thither.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  cardinal 
principle,  as  it  was  the  only  justification  of  all  his 
language  exercises,  that  it  was  not  knowledge,  but 
the  appetite  for  knowledge,  and  the  means  of  gaining 
it,  Avhich  it  was  the  chief  business  of  a  schoolmaster 
to  impart. 


CHAPTER    IV 

Language  as  a  discipline  contrasted  with  natural  science  —  Know- 
ledge of  physical  facts  not  the  only  science  —  History  —  Relation 
of  Ancient  and  Modern  History  —  Its  claims  as  a  school  subject 

—  Training  for  citizenship  — Example  of  a  school  exercise  — 
Niebuhr's  researches  in  Roman  History —  Arnold's  own  treat- 
ment of  the  regal  period  of  Rome  —  His  love  of  history  infectious 

—  Geography  —  Thoroughness  in  teaching  —  Qualifications  of 
assistants  —  School  organization  —  Relation  of  a  head  master  to 
governing  body 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  Arnold  was  a  faithful 
representative  and  successor  of  the  school  of  educa- 
tional theorists  who  place  the  "humanitios"  in  the 
foremost  place  as  the  staple  of  liberal  culture,  lie 
may  be  said  to  belong  to  the  pre-scientihc  era  of 
educational  history.  Had  he  lived  to  know  of  the 
marvellous  extension  of  physical  science  which  has 
characterized  the  subsequent  half-century,  had  he 
followed  the  researches  of  Huxley  and  Darwin  and 
Lockyer  and  Lyell,  and  recognized  the  skill  with 
wliich  the  forces  of  nature  have  been  investigated 
and  turned  to  account  in  enlarging  the  resources  of 
human  life  and  happiness,  he  miglit  in  all  probability 
have  revised  his  plans  and  seen  the  wisdom  of  recog- 
nizing the  claims  of  natural  knowledge  as  an  integral 
liart  of  a  scheme  of  liberal  education.  He  was  too 
well  acquainted  with  the  Novum  Organum,  ami  with 
the  spirit  of  its  illustrious  author,  to  disregard  the 
new  and  beautiful  knowledge  which  such  studies  as 
52 


(X^NIVSHSIT- 
LANGUAGE   AND   PHYSICAL   SCIEN;QEc^^,»§J^^j^. 

biology,  chemistry,  and  zoology  have  of  late  brought 
to  light.  But  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  he 
would  ever  have  regarded  any  acquaintance  with  the 
material  forces  of  nature  as  good  substitutes  for  / 
the  intellectual  culture  derived  from  classical  studies, ' 
or  as  equal  to  them  in  disciplinal  value.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  he  would  have  rebelled  against  the  view 
put  forth  by  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  famous  essay, 
"What  knowledge  is  of  most  worth?"  In  particu- 
lar he  would  have  been  unwilling  to  admit  the  claims 
of  the  physicists  to  appropriate  the  name  of  "sci- 
ence" to  their  own  special  department  of  human 
learning. .  Science,  in  its  true  sense,  connotes  organ- 
ized systematic  knowledge,  as  distinguished  from  the 
knowledge  of  disjointed  and  unrelated  facts.  It 
implies  insight  into  reasons,  causes,  consequences. 
It  is  not  specially  concerned  with  one  class  of  j)he- 
nomena,  nor  with  one  subject  of  investigation,  but 
pertains  alike  to  all  branches  of  knowledge  if  treated 
in  a  philosophic  spirit.  The  nature  and  significance 
of  the  Greek  aorist,  or  the  laws  of  the  syllogism, 
belong  as  truly  to  the  domain  of  science  as  the  pre- 
cession of  the  equinoxes,  or  the  superposition  of 
strata.  It  is  just  as  possible  to  teach  grammar  and 
philology  in  a  scientific  way  as  it  is  to  treat  biology 
or  the  theory  of  refraction  in  an  unscientific  Avay. 
Even  in  an  elementary  school,  the  teacher  who  makes 
clear  the  distinction  between  the  subject  and  the 
predicate,  or  between  the  essential  and  the  non-essen- 
tial parts  of  a  sentence,  is  as  truly  a  teacher  of  science 
as  he  who  explains  why  the  water  boils,  or  what  are 


64  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

the  respective  functious  of  the  heart  and  lungs.  Our 
popular  conceptions  of  the  relative  value  of  different 
departments  of  human  knowledge  will  become  clearer 
when  the  honoured  name  of  "  science  "  shall  have  come 
to  be  understood  to  imply  rather  a  sound  method  of 
investigating  truth  than  the  particular  kind  of  truth 
which  is  subject  to  investigation. 

For  the  present,  however,  it  will  suffice  to  say  that 
"science,"  in  the  restricted  sense  in  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  use  it  of  late,  hardly  came  into  the 
liugby  scheme  at  all.  But  language,  though  the  cen- 
tre of  that  scheme,  was  not  the  exclusive  subject  of 
instruction.  Auxiliary  to  it,  and  necessary  to  give 
organic  unity  to  the  whole  plan,  were  history,  geog- 
rai)hy,  divinity,  etliical  and  jiolitical  science.  And 
of  these,  history  took  the  foremost  place. 

Tlie  educational  value  of  history,  whether  ancient 
or  modern,  considered  as  a  formative  study  and  a 
legitimate  part  of  academic  discipline,  has  been  much 
discussed  by  teachers  and  theorists.  On  the  one 
hand,  it  is  contended  that  the  material  is  unsuited 
for  the  purpose  of  such  discipline;  that  the  facts 
with  which  it  deals  are  inexact,  unverified,  and  often 
incapable  of  verification,  and  that  tlie  sureness  and 
precision  which  should  characterize  all  scholarsliip 
are  unattainable  in  liistory.  And  it  is  often  further 
contended  that  the  subject  should  not  be  recognized 
in  the  curriculum  of  a  school  or  a  university  at  all, 
but  should  be  left  for  the  voluntary  reailing  of  the 
learner.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  those  who  see 
in  the  record  of  jjast  events,  and  in  the  accumulated 


HISTORY   AS   A   SCHOOL   SUBJECT  55 

experience  of  mankiud,  the  most  awakening  form  of 
intellectual  exercise,  the  best  training  for  citizen- 
ship, and  some  of  the  profoundest  and  most  potent 
truths,  in  their  bearing  on  human  conduct  and  on  the 
formation  of  character.  Arnold  had  no  misgivings 
as  to  the  side  of  the  controversy  on  which  he  should 
range  himself.  Coleridge  once  complained  that  the 
lessons  of  history  failed  to  teach  us  as  they  might, 
because  the  light  which  experience  gives  is  little 
more  to  us  than  a  lantern  on  the  stern  of  a  ship, 
which  illuminates  only  the  waves  that  are  behind  us. 
It  was  precisely  against  this  mistake  that  Arnold's 
whole  teaching  Avas  a  practical  protest.  Freeman's 
dictum  that  "History  is  past  politics,  and  politics 
present  history,"  was  well  illustrated  in  the  Eugby 
lessons.  The  life  of  the  Commonwealth  was  to  him 
the  main  subject  of  history;  the  laws  of  political  sci- 
ence, the  main  lesson  of  history ;  the  desire  of  taking 
an  active  share  in  the  great  work  of  government,  the 
highest  earthly  desire  of  the  ripened  mind.^  In  the 
interesting  Excursus  to  be  found  appended  to  his 
edition  of  Thucydides,  abundant  evidence  may  be 
seen  of  the  keen  interest  Arnold  felt  in  tracing  the 
analogies  between  ancient  and  modern  history,  and 
of  his  desire  to  obtain  light  from  the  polity  and 
social  life  of  the  Greeks  and  to  cast  it  upon  some  of 
the  complex  political   problems   of    our   own   time. 


1  See  the  Appendix  to  the  first  volume  of  Thucydides.  The  whole 
discussion  as  to  the  functions  and  influence  of  the  rvpavvoi  and  the 
relation  between  the  aristocracy  and  the  people,  is  very  charac- 
teristic of  the  spirit  in  which  Arnold  gave  historical  lessons. 


56  THOMAS   AUNOLl) 

His  pupils  say  that  he  was  singularly  successful  in 
connecting  tlie  events  recorded  by  Thucydides  and 
Tacitus  with  parallel  incidents  in  modern  history. 
A  discussion  on  the  irtpCoiKOL  of  Athens  —  not  exactly 
citizens,  nor  yet  slaves  —  leads  him  to  a  comparison 
with  the  burghers  of  Augsburg,  or  with  the  uuen- 
franchised  commons  of  England.  Tlie  steps  by  wliich 
the  aristocracy  of  blood  becomes  in  time  overthrown 
by  the  aristocracy  of  wealth,  and  by  which  both  may 
be  in  time  superseded  by  the  ascendency  of  mere 
numbers,  he  would  illustrate  in  such  a  way  as  to 
show  the  fundamental  likeness  between  some  of  the 
social  and  political  i)roblems  of  antiquity. and  those 
of  our  own  day.  Ancient  anil  modern,  he  always 
contended,  were  misleading  terms.  For  there  was  an 
ancient  and  a  modern  period  in  the  history  of  every 
people.  "And  a  large  portion  of  that  history  which 
we  are  wont  to  call  ancient,  the  later  history  of  the 
Greek  republics  and  that  of  the  period  of  the  Koman 
Empire,  is  practically  modern, —  much  more  modern, 
say,  than  the  age  of  Alfred,  as  it  describes  society  in 
a  stage  analogous  to  that  which  we  have  now  reached 
in  the  history  of  England.'' ' 

This  view  of  the  essentially  modern  character  of 
much  of  Avhat  is  called  ancient  history,  and  of  the 
practical  identity  of  many  of  the  social  and  political 
problems  Avliich  present  themselves  for  solution  in 
dilferent  ages,  is  so  important  and  so  characteristic 
of  Arnold's  method  that  it  needs  to  be  more  fully 
vindicated  in  liis  own  words. 

1  Stanley,  CliJii..  IV. 


ANCIENT   AND   MODERN   HISTORY  57 

"  The  state  of  Greece  from  Pericles  to  Alexander,  fully 
described  to  us  as  it  is  iu  the  works  of  their  great  contem- 
porary historians,  poets,  orators,  and  philosophers,  affords  a 
political  lesson  perliaps  more  applicable  to  our  own  times, 
if  taken  altogether,  than  any  otlier  portion  of  history  which 
can  be  named  anterior  to  the  eighteenth  century.  When 
Thucydides,  in  his  reflection  on  the  bloody  dissensions  of 
Corcyra,  notices  the  decay  and  extinction  of  the  sim])licity 
of  old  times,  he  marks  the  great  transition  from  ancient  his- 
tory to  modern,  the  transition  from  an  age  of  feeling  to  one 
of  reflection,  from  a  period  of  ignorance  and  credulity  to  one 
of  inquiry  and  scepticism.  Now,  such  a  transition  took  place 
in  the  sixteenth  century ;  the  i:)eriod  of  the  Reformation,  when 
compared  with  the  years  preceding  it,  was  undoubtedly  one 
of  inquiry  and  reflection.  But  still  it  was  an  age  of  strong 
feeling  and  of  intense  belief;  the  Inunan  mind  cleared  a  space 
for  itself  within  a  certain  circle,  but  except  in  individual  cases, 
and  even  those  scarcely  avowed,  there  were  still  acknowledged 
limits  of  authority,  which  inquiry  had  not  yet  ventured  to 
question.  The  period  of  Roman  civilization  from  the  time 
of  the  Gracchi  to  those  of  the  Antonines  was  in  this  respect 
more  completely  modern,  and,  accordingly,  this  is  one  of  the 
periods  of  history  we  should  do  well  to  study  most  carefully. 
In  point  of  political  experience  we  are,  even  at  this  hour, 
scarcely  on  a  level  with  the  statesmen  of  the  age  of  Alexan- 
der. Mere  lapse  of  years  confers  here  no  increase  of  know- 
ledge ;  four  thousand  years  have  furnished  the  Asiatic  with 
scarcely  anything  that  deserves  the  name  of  political  experi- 
ence ;  two  thousand  years  since  the  fall  of  Carthage  have 
furnished  the  African  with  absolutely  nothing.  Even  in 
Europe  and  in  America  it  would  not  be  easy  now  to  collect 
such  a  treasure  of  experience  as  the  constitutions  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-three  commonwealths  along  the  various  coasts 
of  the  Mediterranean  offered  to  Aristotle.  There  he  might 
study  the  institutions  of  various  races  derived  from  various 
sources  :  every  possible  variety  of  external  position,  of  na- 


58  THOMAS   AKN<iLl) 

tional  character,  of  positive  laws,  agricultural  and  cominer 
cial,  military  powers  ami  maritiine,  wealthy  countries  and 
poor  ones,  monarchies,  aristocracies,  and  democracies,  with 
every  imaginable  form  and  combination  of  each  and  all ; 
states  over-peoided  and  under-peopled,  old  and  new,  and  in 
every  circumstance  of  advance,  maturity,  and  decline.  Nor 
was  the  moral  experience  of  the  age  of  Greek  civilization 
less  complete.  By  moral  experience  I  mean  an  accpiaint^uice 
with  the  whole  compass  of  these  questions  which  relate  to 
the  metaphysical  analysis  of  man's  nature  and  faculties,  and 
to  the  practical  object  of  his  bi-ing.  This  was  derived  from 
the  strong,  critical,  and  inijuiring  spirit  of  the  Greek  sophists 
and  philosophers,  and  from  the  unbounded  freedonj  which 
they  enjoyed.  In  mere  metaphysical  research  the  schoolmen 
were  indefatigable  and  bold,  but  in  moral  questions  there 
was  an  authority  Avhich  restrained  them;  among  Christians 
the  notions  of  duty  and  virtue  must  be  assumed  as  beyond 
dispute.  But  not  the  wildest  extravagance  of  atheistic 
wickedness  in  modern  times  can  go  further  than  the  soph- 
ists of  Greece  went  before  them ;  whatever  audacity  can 
dare  and  subtilty  contrive  to  make  the  words  'good'  and 
'evil'  change  their  meaning  has  been  already  tried  in  the 
days  of  Plato,  and  by  his  ehxiuencc  and  wisdom  and  faith 
unshaken  has  been  jiu't  to  shame.  Tims  it  is  that  while  the 
advance  of  civilization  destroys  much  that  was  noble,  and 
throws  over  the  mass  of  human  society  an  atmosplu-re  some- 
what dull  and  hard,  yet  it  is  only  by  its  peculiar  trials,  no 
less  tlian  by  its  positive  advantages,  that  the  utmost  virtue 
of  human  nature  can  be  matured.  And  those  who  vainly 
lament  tliat  ])rogress  of  earthly  things,  which,  whetlier  good 
or  evil,  is  certainly  inevitable,  may  be  con.soled  by  the  thought 
that  its  sure  tendency  is  to  conlirm  and  purify  the  virtue  of 
the  good  ;  and  tliat  to  us,  holding  in  oiw  luunls  not  the  wis- 
dom of  IMatt)  (inly,  but  also  a  treasure  of  wi.sdum  and  of  com- 
fort which  to  Plato  was  denied,  tiie  utmost  activity  of  the 
iuuiian   mind   may  be  vieweil   without  apprehension,    in   the 


TEACHING  THE   RUDIMENTS   OF   HISTORY       59 

confidence  that  we  possess  a  charm  to  deprive  it  of  its  evil, 
and  to  make  it  minister  for  ourselves  certainly,  and  through 
us,  if  we  use  it  rightly,  for  the  world  in  general,  to  the  more 
perfect  triumph  of  God."  ^ 

In  this  long  extract,  it  is  evident  that  the  object 
sought  in  the  treatment  of  history  as  a  school  subject 
was  not  merely  the  conveyance  of  information  or  of 
useful  knowledge.  Indeed,  Arnold  thought  that  the 
favourite  notion  of  filling  a  learner's  memory  with 
useful  facts  was  likely  to  produce  great  mischief. 
"It  was,"  he  said,  "a  caricature  of  the  principles  of 
inductive  philosophy  which,  while  it  taught  the 
importance  of  a  knowledge  of  facts,  never  imagined 
that  this  knowledge  was  of  itself  equivalent  to  wis- 
dom." He  proposed  to  begin  with  younger  children 
by  giving  a  few  names  of  the  greatest  men  of  differ- 
ent periods,  and  by  presenting  to  them  pictures  of  his- 
torical scenes  so  as  to  form  lasting  associations  with 
the  most  famous  personages  in  history  and  the  most 
remarkable  actions  in  their  lives.  He  would  thus 
familiarize  them  with  the  poetry  of  history-,  the  most 
striking  characters  and  most  heroic  actions,  whether 
of  doing  or  suffering,  but  wonld  abstain  from  embar- 
rassing them  with  its  philosophy,  with  the  causes  of 
revolutions,  the  progress  of  society,  or  the  merits  of 
great  political  questions. 

"Biography  would  form  an  essential  feature  of  such  a  course 
of  lessons,  partly  as  giving  fixed  points  of  human  interest 
round  which  historical  facts  would  cluster  and  adjust  them- 

1  Preface  to  the  third  volume  of  Thucydides. 


60  THOMAS    ARNOLD 

selves,  and  partly  that  in  taking  up  any  more  detailed  history 
or  biography  (and  educators  should  never  forget  the  impor- 
tance of  preparing  a  boy  to  derive  benefit  from  his  accidental 
reading),  he  may  have  some  association  with  the  subject  of 
it,  and  may  not  feel  himself  on  ground  wholly  unknown  to 
him.  Supposing  that  an  outline  of  general  history  has  thus 
been  given  to  a  boy  by  means  of  pictures  and  abridgements, 
that  his  associations,  as  far  as  they  go,  arc  strong  and  lively, 
and  tliat  a  keen  desire  of  knowledge  ha.s  been  awakened,  the 
next  thing  to  be  done  is  to  set  him  to  read  some  first-rate  his- 
torian whose  mind  was  formed  in  some  period  of  advanced 
civilization  analogous  to  that  in  which  we  now  live.  Thus 
in  time  the  learner  may  be  introduced  to  that  higli  philoso- 
phy which  helps  him  "  reriim  cognoscere  cau.sa.s."  Let  iiim 
be  taught  to  trace  back  institutions,  civil  an«l  religious,  to 
\J  their  origin,  to  explain  the  elements  of  the  national  character, 
as  now  exliibited  in  maturity,  in  tlie  vicissitudes  of  a  nation's 
fortune,  and  the  moral  and  physical  qualities  of  its  race,  to 
observe  how  the  morals  and  the  mind  of  the  j>eoplc  have  been 
subject  to  a  succession  of  influences,  some  accidental,  othcre 
regular,  to  see  and  remember  what  critical  seasons  of  improve- 
ment have  been  neglected,  what  besetting  evils  have  been 
wantonly  aggravated  by  wickedness  anil  folly.  In  short,  the 
pui)il  may  be;  furnished,  as  it  were,  with  certain  forinuld- 
which  shall  enable  him  to  read  all  history  beneficially,  shall 
teach  him  what  to  limk  for  in  it,  liow  to  judge  of  it,  and  how 
to  ai^.ly  it." 

Ill  all  tills  wc  .soo  an  illustration  of  the  intellectual 
process  which  Professor  Laurie  lias  called  the  de- 
parocbiali/ing,  of  the  stndent,  the  detaclunent  of  the 
mind  from  what  is  transitory  in  the  polities  of  the 
present  hour,  to  what  is  permanent  and  typical  in 
the  hi.story  of  the  human  race. 

"A    man    thus    educated,"    .Arnold    ar-nied,    ''even 


MORAL  PURPOSE   IX  TEACHING   HISTORY       61 

though  he  knows  no  history  in  detail  but  that  which 
is  called  ancient,  will  be  far  better  fitted  to  enter  on 
public  life  than  he  who  could  tell  the  circumstances 
and  the  date  of  every  battle  and  of  every  debate 
throughout  the  last  century,  and  whose  information, 
in  the  common  sense  of  the  term,  about  modern  his- 
tory might  be  twenty  times  more  minute.  The  fault 
of  systems  of  classical  education  in  some  instances  has 
been,  not  that  they  did  not  teach  modern  history,  but 
that  they  did  not  prepare  and  dispose  tlieir  pupils  to 
acquaint  themselves  with  it  afterwards;  not  that  they 
did  not  attempt  to  raise  an  impossible  superstructure, 
but  that  they  did  not  prepare  the  ground  for  the 
foundation  and  put  the  materials  within  reach  of  the 
builder.  .  .  .  It  is  no  wisdom  to  make  boys  prodigies 
of  information,  but  it  is  our  wisdom  and  our  duty  to 
cultivate  their  faculties  each  in  its  season,  first  the 
memory  and  imagination,  and  then  the  judgment,  to 
furnish  them  with  the  means,  and  to  excite  the  desire 
of  improving  themselves,  and  to  wait  with  confidence 
for  God's  blessing  on  the  result."  ^ 

How  early  it  was  possible  for  a  young  and  ingenu- 
ous mind  to  become  impregnated  with  some  of  the 
Arnoldian  enthusiasm  may  be  judged  from  this  pas- 
sage in  one  of  Arthur  Stanley's  letters  to  his  sister, 
written  three  months  after  his  admission  to  the 
school. 

"We  have  been  examined  again  by  Dr.  Arnold  in  Latin, 
and  he  seemed  very  much  pleased  with  me.     He  is  very  par- 

1  Use  of  the  Classics  —  Arnold's  ^^scellaneolls  Works,  p.  359. 


62  THOMAS   AllNOLl) 

ticular.  The  least  word  you  stiy  or  pronounce  wrong  lie  finds 
out  in  an  instant,  and  he  is  very  jtartiiailar  about  chronology, 
history,  and  geography.  He  does  not  sit  still  like  tlie  other 
masters,  but  walks  backwards  and  forwards  all  the  time,  and 
seems  rather  fidgety.  Only  a  fortnight  to  Ea-stcr  and  the 
speeches.  There  are  to  be  English  verses.  How  I  sluill 
listen  !  .  .  .  How  particular  he  is,  but  at  the  same  time 
so  mild  and  pleasant.  I  like  saying  to  him  very  much.  He 
asks  much  about  history,  and  puts  queer,  out-of-the-way  ques- 
tions. I  daresay  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  got  up  to 
the  top  place  for  answcrijig  something  about  Thcmistocles. 
He  seems  very  much  pleased  when  I  answer  anything." 

The  boy  goes  on  to  tell  also  how  he  has  again  seen 
Mrs.  Arnold,  and  how  "  she  talked  to  me  about  lier 
children,  and  told  me  that  little  Matthew,  the  eldest 
of  her  hoys,  that  morning  had  been  in  the  garden, 
and  got  a  red  and  white  rose  for  her,  and  showing 
them  to  the  Doctor,  said,  'See,  Papa,  here  are  York 
and  Lancaster.'  It  so  happened  that  that  very  day 
the  lesson  with  Dr.  Arnold  was  history,  and  though 
there  was  nothing  particular  about  it  in  the  lesson, 
he  asked  a  good  deal  about  the  devices  of  York  and 
Lancaster.  I  daresay  he  was  thinking  about  JNfatt 
and  his  roses."  ^ 

Incidentally,  an  interesting  side  light  is  tlirown  on 
his  method  of  teaching  by  the  method  adopted  in  his 
Koman  history.  He  had  been  profoundly  impressed 
by  the  researches  of  Niobtihr  into  the  earlier  annals 
of  Kome,  and  he  regarded  that  writer  as  one  who,  by 
the  motliod  no  less  than  by  the  results  of  bis  cnqui- 

1  IJi'r  of  Ih'un  St.nilcii,  X<>].  I. 


ROME   UNDER   THE    KINGS  63 

ries,  had  done  for  ancient  history  what  Bacon  did  for 
science.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  this  author's 
works  exercised  a  singularly  profound  influence  on 
Arnold's  character,  since  they  not  only  inspired  him 
with  new  views  of  historical  criticism,  but  by  introduc- 
ing him  to  German  literature,  opened  out  to  him  new 
realms  of  thought.  With  a  view  to  make  the  result  of 
Niebuhr's  researches  intelligible  to  English  readers, 
he  determined  to  set  forth  the  legendary  story  of  the 
first  three  centuries  of  the  regal  period  of  Rome  in  a 
manner  likely  to  call  special  attention  to  its  unhis- 
torical  and  quasi-mythical  character.  Like  all  true 
teachers,  he  knew  that  truth  of  mere  fact,  — definite, 
verifiable  truth,  is  not  the  only  kind  of  truth  worth 
studying.  What  actually  happened  about  the  begin- 
nings of  Rome,  whether  iEneas  and  Romulus  ever 
lived,  and  what  they  did,  are  matters  undoubtedly 
worth  knowing  if  we  can  find  them  out.  ^^ut  what 
the  Romans  believed  about  the  origin  of  their  city  is 
equally  well  worth  knowing,  for  it  helped  to  shape 
the  polity  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  to  form  the 
national  character,  and  to  influence  Roman  literature. 
It  is  therefore  as  true  a  subject  for  the  historian,  and 
has  exercised  as  great  an  influence  on  the  fortunes 
and  development  of  the  human  race  as  any  dates  and 
records  which  will  satisfy  the  historical  critic.  It 
might  be  contended  that  the  like  argument  would 
justify  the  historians  of  our  own  country  in  setting 
forth  the  legends  of  Brutus  the  Trojan,  of  Lear,  and 
of  Pendragon,  as  they  are  told  by  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth, Gildas,  or  Nennius,  or  later  by  Milton  him- 


64  THOMAS    ARNOLD 

self  in  his  curious  fragment  of  British  history.  But 
it  is  manifest  that  the  same  reasons  do  not  apjily, 
and  that,  interesting  as  these  legends  are,  and  fruitful 
as  they  have  been  found  by  our  poets,  from  Shake- 
speare to  Tennyson,  they  have  never  been  incorporated 
in  the  popular  belief,  as  the  traditions  of  the  prehis- 
toric age  of  Rome  had  been.  It  ^vas,  however,  very 
characteristic  of  Arnold  tliat  he  was  unwilling  to 
dismiss  these  traditions  as  irrelevant  and  wholly 
unhistorical,  but  tliat  he  sought  ratlior  to  iind  for 
them  their  due  place  in  the  narrative  with  a  kind  of 
authenticity  all  tlieir  own.  "I  wished,"  he  said  in 
his  preface  to  the  lloman  history,  "to  give  these 
legends  with  the  best  effect,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  a  perpetual  mark,  not  to  be  mistaken  by  the 
most  careless  reader,  that  tliey  were  legends  and  not 
history.  There  seemed  a  reason,  therefore,  for  adopt- 
ing a  more  antiquated  style,  which  otherwise,  of 
course,  would  be  justly  liable  to  the  charge  of  affec- 
tation." Most  readers  of  his  Tvoman  history  will  be 
ready  to  acknowledge  tliat  this  aim  has  been  well 
fulfilled.  The  author  has  succeeded  in  adding  a  new 
charm  to  the  story  of  Ilomulus  and  Numa,  and  has 
invested  with  tlie  hues  of  poetry  the  beautiful  legend 
of  the  nymph  Egoria,  who  "  in  her  sacred  grove  and 
by  the  si)ring  that  welled  out  of  tlic  rock  tauglit  the 
good  king  all  that  lio  ouglit  to  do  towards  the  gods 
and  towards  iiicn."  It  is  pleasant  tlius  to  have  the 
old-world  stories  of  the  statesman-like  Sorvius  aiul 
the  wicked  Tullia,  tlie  Sibylline  books,  the  Delphic 
oracle,  and  the  exi)ulsion  of  I.Ik^  Tartpiins  told  with 


HISTORICAL  SYMPATHIES  AND  ANTIPATHIES     65 

simplicity  in  archaic  and  semi-Biblical  language, 
while  all  the  critical  apparatus  and  discussion  of 
their  historical  trustworthiness  are  appropriately  re- 
served for  separate  treatment.  One  obtains,  as  this 
book  is  read,  a  glimpse  of  the  method  by  which  a 
teacher  might  vivify  history  and  make  it  real  and 
edifying  to  a  nineteenth  century  learner,  without 
robbing  it  of  that  nuance  of  poetry  which  makes  the 
twilight  of  history  so  full  of  pathetic  beauty. 

And  hence  we  are  not  surprised  to  learn  that  his- 
tory as  he  treated  it  became  a  favourite  subject  with 
the  boys.  A  schoolmaster  wlio  lias  no  hobby,  no 
subject  which  he  teaches  Avith  special  sympathy  and 
with  contagious  enthusiasm,  loses  a  great  opportunity 
of  influence.  And  it  was  soon  perceived  that  his 
favourite  books  and  periods  the  boys  read  zealously, 
and  that  his  favourite  heroes  were  theirs.  The  char- 
acters and  thoughts  of  antiquity  were  to  him  and  to 
them  alike  almost  living  and  present.  "A  black 
cloud  was  on  his  brow  when  he  spoke  of  Tiberius  or 
Augustus  or  Napoleon,  of  the  soulless  Epicureanism 
of  Horace  or  the  coarseness  of  Juvenal;  and  few  of 
his  pupils  have  lost  his  enthusiasm  for  the  often  mis- 
represented and  vilified  Cicero,  or  for  the  best  and 
holiest  of  kings,  St.  Louis  of  France.  He  denounced 
Polybius  as  a  dull  geographer  and  an  overrated  mili- 
tary historian,  and  Livy  as  a  drunken  helot,  showing 
us  what  history  ought  not  to  be,  and  so  uniformly 
careless  as  to  make  the  Punic  war  as  hard  in  the 
telling,  as  it  was  in  the  fighting."  Thus,  as  INIr.  Oscar 
Browning  says: 


66  THOMAS    ARNOLD 

"  Arnold's  deep  interest  in  liistory,  his  grasp  of  all  that 
was  living  and  actual  in  the  authors  which  he  taught,  were 
the  springs  of  a  literary  stimulus,  the  eftcets  of  which  fre- 
quently lasted  througli  life.  After  reading  St.  Paul's  denun- 
ciations of  tlie  sins  of  the  heathen,  he  would  turn  to  his 
Horace  and  siiy,  '  Let  us  now  see  what  this  ancient  world 
was  like. ' " 

As  an  adjunct  to  liistory  he  attached  special  value 
to  geography.  The  physical  features  of  a  country 
must  be  studied  before  the  events  which  took  place 
in  it  can  be  explained.  As  a  topographical  map  is 
indispensable  to  the  commander  who  undertakes  a 
campaign,  it  is  not  less  useful  to  one  who  wishes  to 
understand  the  history  of  such  a  campaign.  Carlyle 
did  not  undertake  to  describe  the  battle  of  Dunbar  or 
of  Rossbach  until  he  had  visited  the  spot  and  studied 
the  conformation  of  the  ground ;  and  in  like  manner 
Arnold  followed  and  traced  with  care  the  footsteps  of 
Hannibal  over  the  Alps.  That  Ostia  in  the  time  of 
Ancus  Martins  was  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber,  though 
now  seven  miles  froin  the  sea,  that  Ravenna,  in  the 
time  of  Theodoric,  w^as  one  of  the  most  famous  cities 
of  Italy,  though  now,  owing  to  the  physical  changes 
of  the  shore,  an  obscure  and  pestilential  town,  and 
that  Rome  itself  owes  its  growth  to  its  fortunate 
position  in  the  midst  of  a  large  area  of  i)roductive 
territory,  w^ere  facts  which  seemed  to  him  to  have  a 
significant  bearing  on  the  course  of  history. 

"  I  have  l)ecn  working  at  ITaiuiibars  pa.ssage  of  the  Alps. 
ITow  bad  a  geographer  is  Poly1>i\i.s,  and  how  strange  thiit  he 
shoidd  be  thought  a  good  one  !     Cnniiiare  liini  with  any  man 


GEOGKAPHY   AN   ADJUNCT   To    HISTORY         67 

who  is  really  a  geographer,  —  with  Herodotus,  with  Napo- 
leon, whose  sketclies  of  Italy,  Egypt,  and  Syria,  in  his 
memoirs  are  unrivalled,  —  or  with  Niebuhr,  and  how  strik- 
ing is  the  ditfereuce.  The  dulness  of  Polybius'  fancy  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  conceive  or  paint  sceneiy  clearly, 
and  how  can  a  man  be  a  geographer  without  lively  images 
of  the  formation  and  features  of  the  country  wliich  he 
describes  1  How  different  are  the  several  Alpine  valleys, 
and  how  would  a  few  simple  touches  of  the  scenery  which 
he  seems  actually  to  have  visited,  yet  could  neither  under- 
stand nor  feel  it,  have  decided  for  ever  the  question  of  the 
route.  JVoiv  the  account  suits  no  valley  well,  and  therefore 
it  may  be  applied  to  many ;  but  I  believe  the  real  line  was 
by  the  little  St.  Bernard,  although  I  cannot  trace  the  par- 
ticular spots  which  De  Luc  and  Cramer  fancy  they  could 
recognise.  I  thought  so  on  the  spot  (i.e.,  that  the  route 
could  not  be  traced)  when  I  crossed  the  little  St.  Bernard 
with  Polybius  in  my  hand,  and  I  think  so  still.  How  much 
we  want  a  physical  history  of  countries,  tracing  the  changes 
they  have  undergone,  either  by  such  violent  revolutions  as 
volcanic  phenomena,  or  by  the  slower  but  not  less  complete 
change  produced  by  ordinary  causes :  such  as  alteration  of 
climate  occasioned  by  enclosing  and  draining,  alteration  in  the 
course  of  rivers,  and  in  the  level  of  their  beds,  alteration  in 
the  animal  and  vegetable  productions  of  tlie  soil,  and  in  the 
supply  of  metals  and  minerals,  noting  also  the  advance  or 
retreat  of  the  sea,  and  the  origin  and  successive  increase  in 
the  number  and  variation  in  the  line  of  roads,  together  with 
the  changes  in  the  extent  and  character  of  the  woodlands. 
How  much  might  be  done  by  our  society  at  Rome  if  some 
of  its  attention  were  directed  to  these  points ;  for  instance, 
drainage  and  an  alteration  in  the  course  of  the  waters  have 
produced  great  changes  in  Tuscany,  and  there  is  also  the 
interesting  question  as  to  the  spread  of  malaria  in  the 
Maremma."^ 

1  Letter  CXII. 


68  THOMAS   AIJN'oLl) 

Dean  Stanley  gives  anotlier  example  of  the  way  in 
which  Arnold  would  vivify  his  lessons  by  associating 
geography  and  history. 

"  In  the  Seven  Yeiu.s'  AV;ir  lie  would  illustrate  tlie  gen- 
eral connexion  of  military  history  with  geography  by  the 
simple  instance  of  the  order  of  Hainiibal's  successive  vic- 
tories, and  then  chalking  roughly  on  a  board  the  chief  points 
in  the  physical  conformation  of  Germany,  apply  the  same 
principle  to  the  more  complicated  campaigns  of  P^cderick 
the  Great.  Or  again  in  a  more  general  examination  he 
would  ask  for  the  chief  events  which  occurred,  for  instance, 
in  the  year  15,  of  two  or  three  successive  centuries,  and 
by  making  the  boys  contrast  or  compare  them  together, 
bring  before  their  minds  the  ditt'crcnces  and  resemblances 
in  the  state  of  Europe  in  each  of  the  periods  in  question." 

This  passage  is  interesting  as  a  revelation  of  one 
conspicuous  note  or  characteristic  of  Arnold's  teach- 
ing—  its  thoroughness.  The  truly  effective  teacher 
must  not  only  know  his  subject  or  his  text-book,  he 
must  look  all  round  it,  must  survey  from  all  sides 
the  problem  he  has  to  solve  and  nuist  furnish  himself 
with  such  auxiliary  inforjnation  as  may  help  liim 
to  illustrate  the  matter  in  hand  from  very  differ- 
ent points  of  view.  Arnold  saw  the  necessity  of 
Avidening  the  school  curriculum,  of  giving  to  mathe- 
matics, modern  languages,  and  even  to  rudimentary 
science  increased  attention  and  importance;  but  his 
own  personal  teaching  was  mainly  confined,  as  we 
have  seen,  to  divinity,  language,  literature,  and 
to  history,  and  to  so  much  of  geography  as  would 
make  history  and  lileralure  intelligible.      AVithin  that 


RELATION  OF  HEAD  MASTER  TO  ASSISTANTS    69 

range  nothing  which  had  even  an  indirect  bearing  on 
the  ehicidation  of  the  subject  seemed  to  him  unim- 
portant or  irrelevant.  But  outside  this  range,  he 
habitually  deferred  to  the  judgment  of  otliers.  When 
a  boy  brought  him  a  question  he  was  unable  to 
answer,  he  would  say  frankly,  "Go  to  Mr,  Price,"  or 
perhaps  some  other  assistant,  "  he  knows  more  about 
it  than  I  do."  That  affectation  of  omniscience  wliich 
some  teachers  deem  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of 
dignity  seemed  petty  and  unworthy  in  his  eyes ;  and 
one  of  the  lessons  the  boys  learned  from  him  was 
that  one  should  have  the  courage  to  admit  ignorance 
of  many  things,  and  that  it  was  a  mean  thing  to  pre- 
tend to  know  that  of  which  we  are  actually  ignorant. 
His  views  as  to  the  right  relation  of  a  head  master 
to  his  colleagues  are  Avell  illustrated  in  these  two 
extracts  from  letters,  the  first  being  one  of  enquiry 
for  a  master. 

"What  I  want  is  a  man  who  is  a  Christian  and  a  gentle- 
man —  an  active  man,  and  one  who  has  common  sense  and 
imderstands  boys.  I  do  not  so  much  care  about  scholarship, 
as  he  will  liavc  immediately  under  him  the  lowest  forms  in 
the  school ;  but  yet,  on  second  thoughts,  I  do  care  about  it 
very  much,  because  his  pupils  may  be  in  the  highest  forms ; 
and  besides,  I  think  that  even  the  elements  are  best  taught 
by  a  man  who  has  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  matter. 
However,  if  one  must  give  way,  I  prefer  activity  of  mind, 
and  an  interest  in  his  Avork,  to  high  scholarship,  for  the  one 
can  be  acquired  more  easily  than  the  other." 

In  a  letter  addressed  to  a  new  master  on  his  ap- 
pointment, he  amplifies  this  theme,  and  presents  to  us 
a  picture  of  an  ideal  assistant, 


70  'JIIOMAS    ARNOLD 

"  Tlic  qualifications  which  I  deein  essential  to  the  due  per- 
formance of  a  master's  duties  here  may  in  brief  be  expressed 
as  the  spirit  of  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman  —  that  a  man 
should  enter  upon  his  business  not  tK  irapipyov,  but  as  of 
substantive  and  most  important  duty  ;  that  he  should  devote 
himself  to  it  as  the  especial  branch  of  the  ministerial  calling 
which  he  has  chosen  to  follow ;  that  belonging  to  a  great 
public  institution,  and  sharing  in  a  public  and  conspicuous 
situation,  he  should  study  things  'lovely  and  of  good 
report ' ;  that  is,  that  he  should  be  public-spirited,  liberal, 
and  entering  heartily  into  the  interest,  honour,  and  general 
respectability  and  distinction  of  the  society  that  he  has 
joined,  and  that  he  should  have  sutticient  vigour  of  mind, 
and  thirst  for  knowledge,  to  persist  in  adding  to  his  own 
stores,  without  neglecting  the  full  improvement  of  those 
whom  he  is  teaching.  I  think  our  masterships  here  offer 
a  noble  field  of  duty ;  and  I  would  not  bestow  these  on 
any  one  who  I  thought  would  undertake  them  without 
entering   into   the  spirit  of  our  system  heart  and  hand."  * 

In  short,  his  aim  was  first  to  surround  himself  with 
men  worthy  of  trust,  and  tlien  to  trust  them.  Every 
three  weeks  a  council  was  held,  in  which  all  school 
matters  were  discussed,  and  in  which  every  one  was 
free  to  express  his  opinion  or  pr()i>ose  any  measure 
not  in  contradiction  to  any  fundamental  prineiple  of 
school  administration,  and  it  not  unfrequently  liap- 
pened  that  he  himself  was  opposed  and  out-voted. 
He  tried  to  strengthen  the  bonds  Avhich  united  the 
masters  and  the  school,  and  their  loyalty  to  one 
another,  by  offering  in  various  ways  means  for 
friendly  connnunication  between  them.      He  desired, 

1  Slaiiley,  Cliap.  III. 


THE   IDEAL   SCHOOL  71 

also,  that  the,  masters  should  have  "each  a  horse  of 
his  own  to  ride,"  independent  of  the  mere  phantas- 
magoria of  hoys  passing  ^successively  through  their 
respective  forms.  He  had  learned  from  experience 
how  much  his  own  mental  horizon  and  his  power  of 
usefulness  had  been  enlarged  by  the  indulgence  of 
intellectual  hobbies  not  directly  connected  with  the 
necessary  routine  of  school  work  ;  and  when  he  dis- 
covered any  special  gift  or  taste  on  the  part  of  a 
young  master,  he  sought  to  find  an  opportunity  for 
its  exercise.  A  weak  head  master  seeks  to  be  an 
autocrat,  and  is  fain  to  lay  down  mechanical  rules 
with  a  view  to  secure  that  all  his  assistants  shall 
conform  to  his  pattern  and  his  methods.  It  is  only  a 
strong  man  who  can  afford  to  encourage  freedom  and 
reasonable  independence  among  his  subordinates,  and 
thus  to  secure  their  hearty  co-operation.  Yet  with- 
out such  freedom  there  will  always  be  waste  of 
power;  the  school  Avill  lack  organic  unity,  and  will 
fail  to  achieve  its  highest  purposes. 

Thus  the  ideal  ever  before  the  head  master's  mind 
was  not  that  of  a  school  in  which  it  was  the  business 
of  some  to  teach  and  others  to  learn,  and  in  which 
the  functions  of  the  various  members  were  clearly 
separated  and  detined,  but  an  organized  community 
for  inutual  help  in  the  business  both  of  teaching  and 
learning.  Education,  he  was  wont  to  say,  is  not  a 
mechanical  but  a  dynamical  process,  and  the  more 
powerful  and  vigorous  the  mind  of  the  teacher,  the 
more  clearly  and  readily  he  can  grasp  things,  the 
better  fitted  he  is  to  cultivate  the  mind  of  another. 


UNIVERSITT 


72  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

"And  to  this  I  find  myself  coming  more  and  more. 
I  care  less  and  less  for  information,  more  and  more 
for  the  pure  exercise  of  the  mind,  for  answering  a 
question  concisely  and  comprehensively,  for  showing 
a  command  of  language,  delicacy  of  taste,  a  compre- 
hensiveness of  thought,  and  power  of  combination."^ 
The  relations  of  a  head  master  to  a  governing  body 
are  among  the  most  difficult  and  delicate  concern- 
ments of  his  life.  The  right  of  governors  and  trus- 
tees to  control  the  general  administration  of  the 
school  and  of  its  funds  is  undoubted;  and  deference, 
courtesy,  and  full  information  are  their  due  from  the 
master  to  whom  they  have  confided  the  actual  internal 
government  of  the  school.  lUit  in  Arnold's  view  the 
delimitation  of  power  and  responsibility  should  be 
very  clearly  marked.  Fuller  has  said  of  the  good 
schoolmaster,  that  "  he  is  and  will  be  known  to  be  an 
absolute  monarch  in  his  school."  And  this  is  indeed 
the  only  condition  on  which  a  high-minded  man,  con- 
scious of  power  and  of  a  clear  purpose,  could  accept 
a  head-mastership.  The  trustees  have  always  their 
remedy.  They  may  dismiss,  without  assigning  cause, 
a  master  in  whom,  for  any  reason,  they  have  ceased 
to  have  confidence.  But  until  they  do  so,  his  author- 
ity is  absolute.  AVhile  seeking,  therefore,  to  culti- 
vate the  most  friendly  relations  with  tlie  trustees, 
Arnold  was  very  resolute  in  regard  to  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  his  office.  And  when  on  the  appearance 
of  an  article  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  which  was 
generally  and  rightly  attributed  to  him,  an  infiueutial 

J  Letter  CXXIV. 


RELATION  OF   HEAD  MASTER  TO   GOVERNORS     73 

governor  of  the  school  wrote  to  ask  him  if  he  were 
the  author,  he  replied  without  hesitation.  The  let- 
ters following  have  in  fact  established  a  precedent  of 
which  many  later  teachers  have  availed  themselves 
for  their  own  protection  against  interference  within 
the  sphere  of  their  own  lawful  freedom  and  respon- 
sibility. Earl  Howe  wrote  to  him  requesting,  as  one 
of  the  trustees  of  Rugby  School,  that  Dr.  Arnold 
would  declare  if  he  was  the  author  of  the  article 
on  Dr.  Hampden  in  the  Edinburgh  lievieio,  and 
stating  that  his  conduct  would  be  guided  by  Dr. 
Arnold's  answer. 

"Rugby,  June  22,  1836. 
"My  Lord,  — 

"The  answer  which  your  Lordship  has  asked  for  I  have 
given  several  times  to  many  of  my  friends ;  and  I  am  well 
known  to  be  very  little  apt  to  disavow  or  conceal  my  author- 
ship of  anything  that  I  may  at  any  time  have  written. 
Still,  as  I  conceive  your  Lordship's  question  to  be  one  which 
none  but  a  personal  friend  has  the  slightest  right  to  put  to 
me,  or  to  any  man,  I  feci  it  due  to  myself  to  decline  giving 
any  answer  to  it. " 

In  reply  to  a  second  letter  in  which  Lord  Howe 
urged  compliance  with  his  request,  on  the  grounds  that 
he  might  feel  constrained  by  official  duty  to  take 
some  step  in  the  matter  in  case  the  report  were  true, 
Arnold  says : 

"Your  Lordship  addressed  me  in  a  tone  purely  formal  and 
official,  and  at  the  same  time  asked  a  question  which  the 
common  usage  of  society  regards  as  one  of  delicacy  —  justi- 
fied I  do  not  say,  only  by  personal  friendship,  but  at  least 


74  THOMAS   AllNOLl) 

by  some  familiarity  of  aciiuaiiitaiicc.  It  was  because  no 
such  ground  could  exist  in  the  {uesent  case,  and  because  I 
cainiot  and  do  not  acknowledge  your  right  otlicially  as  a 
trustee  of  Rugby  Scliool,  to  question  me  on  the  subject  of 
my  real  or  supjMjsed  writings  on  matters  wholly  uncttnnected 
with  the  school,  that  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  <lecline  answering 
your  Lordship's  (juestion. 

"It  is  very  painful  to  be  placed  iu  a  situation  where  I 
must  either  appear  to  seek  concealment  wholly  foreign  to 
my  wishes,  or  else  must  acknowledge  a  right  which  I  owe 
it,  not  only  to  myself,  but  to  tlie  master  of  every  endowed 
s(,'hool  in  England,  absolutely  to  deny.  But  in  tlie  present 
case,  I  thiidc  I  can  hardly  be  suspected  of  seeking  conceal- 
ment. I  have  spoken  on  the  subject  of  the  article  in  the 
EtUnhurgk  Review,  freely,  in  the  liearing  of  many,  with  no 
request  for  secrecy,  on  their  part,  expressed  or  iinjilied. 
Officially,  however,  I  cannot  return  an  answer,  not  from  the 
slightest  feeling  of  disrespect  to  your  Lordship,  but  because 
my  answering  would  allow  a  i»rinci])le  which  1  can,  o\\  no 
account,  admit  to  be  just  or  reasonable." 


CHAPTEE  V 

Arnold  as  a  disciplinarian  —  Moral  evils  in  school  —  Description  of 
their  danger  —  Mr.  Welldon's  picture  of  school  life  —  Fagging  — 
Luxury  and  idleness  —  Expulsion  —  Religions  lessons  —  Chapel 
services  — School  sermons  —  Extravagance  —  Home  influence  — 
Mental  cultivation  a  religions  duty — A  memorable  sermon  — 
Religious  exercises  —  Corporate  life  of  a  great  school  —  AVhat  is 
Christian  education — Clerical  schoolmasters  —  The  influence  of 
Arnold's  sermons  generally  —  Punishments  —  Study  of  individual 
character — Games  and  athletics —  Tom  Broion's  School  Days  — 
Rugby  boys  at  the  Universities  —  Bishop  Percival's  estimate 

Aris'old's  fame,  however,  rests  more  largely  on  his 
work  as  a  ruler  and  administrator,  than  on  his  special 
gifts  as  a  teacher.  It  was  the  discipline,  the  ^^os,  the 
moral  atmosphere  of  Rugby,  on  Avhich,  as  he  himself 
desired,  his  influence  was  most  strongly  felt.  He  had 
from  the  lirst  an  oppressive  sense  of  the  formidable 
character  of  the  task  he  had  undertaken ;  of  the  vast 
capacity  for  evil  which  lay  yet  undeveloped  in  a  crowd 
of  young,  high-spirited,  lawless  lads ;  and  yet  of  the 
boundless  x>ossibilities  of  good  which  Avere  there  also. 
"  The  management  of  boys,"  he  said,  "  has  all  the  in- 
terest of  a  great  game  of  chess  with  living  creatures 
for  pawns  and  pieces,  and  your  adversary  in  plain 
English  the  devil,  who  truly  plays  a  tough  game  and 
is  very  hard  to  beat."  It  is  a  familiar  fact  in  the  ex- 
perience of  teachers  that  the  interval  between  child- 
hood and  manhood  is  a  somewhat  intractable  period  ; 
—  a  state  of  transition  wherein  the  several  elements  of 


76  THOMAS   AKNULD 

our  composite  nature  exist  for  tlie  time  in  unfavour- 
able proportions.  The  shepherd's  wish  in  the  Win- 
ter's Tale,  "I  Avoukl  there  were  no  age  between  ten 
and  three  and  twenty,  or  that  youth  Avouhl  sleep  out 
the  rest,"  has  found  an  echo  in  the  thoughts  of  many 
a  schoolmaster.  Boys,  however,  decline  to  go  to  sleep 
from  ten  years  old  till  twenty-three.  They  are  in  fact 
very  much  alive,  and  Arnold  was  sometimes  appalled 
at  the  task  he  had  undertaken.  When  he  Avent  to 
Rugby,  the  state  of  morals  and  behaviour  was  emi- 
nently disheartening;  drunkenness  and  swearing  were 
common  vices ;  a  reckless  defiance  of  authority,  and  a 
hatred  of  submission  to  it,  were  combined  with  a  servile 
cringing  to  the  public  opinion  of  the  school.  There 
was  great  readiness  to  combine  for  evil,  and  a  system- 
atic persecution  carried  on  by  the  bad  against  the  good. 
Dr.  Moberly,  head  master  of  Winchester,  and  after- 
wards Bishop  of  Salisbury,  says  that  "the  tone  of 
young  men  who  came  up  to  the  University  from  Win- 
chester, Eton,  Rugby,  or  Harrow,  was  universally 
irreligious.  A  religious  undergraduate  was  very  rare, 
and  Avas  much  laughed  at  wlun  he  appeared." 

An  outspoken  passage  from  one  of  Arnold's  school 
sermons  shows  how  true  a  diagnosis  he  had  made  of 
the  evils  he  had  to  encounter,  and  how  deep  was  his 
sense  of  the  dangers  and  pitfalls  which  surround  life 
in  a  great  public  school. 

"  Whixt  tlie  a.spoct  of  public  scliools  is  when  viewcil  with 
a  Christian  oyc,  and  wliat  arc  the  feeling.s  witli  whicli  men 
wlio  do  not  really  turn  to  (lod  in  aftt>r  life  look  back  njv>n 
their  years  jjussed  at  .school,  I  cannot  express  better  tlian  in 


MORAL   EVILS   IN   PUBLIC   SCHOOLS  77 

the  words  of  one  ^  who  had  himself  been  at  a  public  school, 
who  afterwards  became  a  most  exemplary  Christian,  and 
who  in  what  I  am  going  to  quote  seems  to  describe  his  own 
experience.  'Public  schools,'  he  says,  'are  the  very  seats 
and  nurseries  of  vice.  It  may  be  unavoidable,  or  it  may  not, 
but  the  fact  is  indisputable.  None  can  pass  through  a 
large  school  without  being  pretty  intimately  acquainted  with 
vice,  and  few,  alas  !  very  few,  without  tasting  too  largely  of 
that  poisoned  bowl.  The  hour  of  grace  and  repentance 
at  length  arrives,  and  they  are  astonished  at  their  former 
fatuity.   .  .  .' 

"I  am  afraid,"  Arnold  goes  on  to  say,  "that  the  fact  is 
indeed  indisputable.  Public  schools  are  the  very  seats  and 
nurseries  of  vice.  But  the  same  writer  says  further,  'It 
may  be  unavoidable,  or  it  may  not,'  and  these  words  seem 
to  me  as  though  they  ought  to  fill  us  with  the  deepest  shame 
of  all.  For  what  a  notion  does  it  give  that  we  should  have 
been  so  long  and  constantly  bad  that  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  our  badness  be  not  unavoidable,  Avhether  we  are  not 
evil  hopelessly  and  incurably.  And  this  to  be  true  of  places 
which  were  intended  to  be  seats  of  Christian  education,  and 
in  all  of  which,  I  believe,  the  same  words  are  used  in  the 
daily  prayers  which  we  use  regularly  here  !  God  is  thanked 
for  those  founders  and  benefactors  by  whose  benefits  the 
whole  school  is  brought  up  to  godliness  and  good  learn- 
ing !  .  .  .  What  is  meant  when  public  schools  are  called 
'  the  seats  and  nurseries  of  vice '  1  That  is  properly  a  nurs- 
ery of  vice  where  a  boy  unlearns  the  pure  and  honest  prin- 
ciples which  he  may  have  received  at  home,  and  gets  in  their 
stead  others  which  are  utterly  low  and  base  and  mischievous, 
where  he  loses  his  modesty,  his  respect  for  truth,  and  his 
afFectionateness,  and  becomes  coarse  and  false  and  unfeeling. 
That,  too,  is  a  nursery  of  vice,  and  most  fearfully  so,  where 
vice  is  bold  and  forward  and  presuming,  and  goodness  is 

1  Mr.  John  Bowdler,  Remains,  Vol.  II.,  p.  153. 


78  THOMAS    AlINOM) 

timid  and  shy,  and  exists  as  if  by  suffcrauce ;  where  the 
good,  instead  of  setting  the  tune  of  society  and  branding 
with  disgrace  those  who  disregard  it,  are  themselves  exposed 
to  reproach  for  their  guorhiess,  and  shrink  before  the  open 
avowal  of  evil  principles  which  the  bad  are  striving  to  make 
the  law  of  the  community.  That  is  a  nursery  of  vice  where 
the  restraints  laid  upon  evil  are  considered  as  so  much  taken 
from  liberty,  and  where,  generally  speaking,  evil  is  more 
willingly  screened  and  concealed  than  detected  and  punished. 
What  society  would  be  if  men  regarded  the  laws  of  God  and 
man  as  a  grievance,  and  thought  liberty  consisted  in  follow- 
ing to  the  full  their  proud  and  selfish  and  low  inclination.^, 
that  schools  to  a  great  extent  ;ire,  and  therefore  they  may 
be  well  called  '  the  seats  and  nurseries  of  vice.' " ' 

The  peculiar  conditions  which  help  to  determine  the 
public  opinion  of  a  great  school  have  been  described 
with  much  vividness  and  clearness  of  insight,  by  a 
later  head  master  of  large  and  varied  experience. 

"The  modern  bed  of  Procrustes,  is,  or  wa.s,  a  public 
school.  Nowhere  in  the  world  is  there  so  keen  an  appre- 
ciation of  those  who  adapt  tliemselves  to  local  tone,  temper, 
and  custom.  But  nowhere  is  departure,  however  sligiit, 
from  the  recognized  standard  of  propriety  visited  witii 
consequences  so  unfailing.  The  society  of  a  jiublic  school 
is  a  world  in  itself,  self-centred,  self-satisfied.  It  takes  but 
slight  account  of  the  principles  and  practices  which  obtain  in 
tlie  world  of  men.  It  has  its  own  laws,  its  own  fashions, 
its  own  accepted  code  of  morals.  To  these  all  pcreons  nuist 
submit,  or  the  penalty  of  resistance  is  heavy.  Its  virtues 
are  not  altogether  those  of  men  and  women,  nor  are  its 
vices.  Some  actions  of  which  the  world  thinks  comi)ara- 
tively    little,    it    honours    with    profound    admiration.      To 


DANGERS   OF   SCHOOL-BOY   LIFE  79 

others  which  the  world  thinks  much  of,  it  is  indiiferent. 
There,  physical  courage,  for  instance,  is  esteemed  too  highly. 
Self-repression  is  depreciated.  Hypocrisy  is  loathed.  But 
the  inverted  hypocrisy  —  the  homage  which  virtue  pays  to 
vice  —  or,  in  other  words,  the  affectation  of  being  worse 
than  one  really  is,  is  common  among  boys,  and  is  thought 
to  be  honourable.  Truth,  again,  is  not  esteemed  as  a  virtue 
of  universal  application,  but  is  relative  to  particular  persons, 
a  folsehood,  if  told  to  a  schoolfellow,  being  worse  than  if 
told  to  a  master.  Nobody  can  be  intimate  with  a  com- 
munity of  schoolboys  and  not  feel  that  a  morality  so  abso- 
lute, yet  so  narrow,  and  in  some  ways  so  perverted,  bears  a 
certain  resemblance  to  the  morality  of  a  savage  tribe.  It 
is  rather  the  germ  of  morals,  tlian  morality  itself.  .  .  . 
What  may  be  called  the  uncivilized  or  unsoftencd  spirit  in 
public  school  life  is  seen  in  the  homage  paid  among  public- 
school  boys  to  physical  faculties  and  performances.  Of  the' 
achievements  of  the  intellect,  if  they  stand  alone,  public- 
school  opinion  is  still,  as  it  has  always  been,  slightly  con- 
temptuous. But  strength,  speed,  atldetic  skill,  quickness 
of  eye  and  hand,  still  command  universal  appliuise  among 
schoolboys,  as  among  savages."  ' 

How  Arnold  sought  to  meet  the  difficulties  of  the 
task  before  him,  and  by  what  expedients  he  endeav- 
oured to  clear  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the  school,  and 
to  set  up  by  degrees  a  higher  standard  both  of  aim  and 
achievement  in  school-boy  life,  cannot  be  fully  under- 
stood without  acquaintance  with  the  fuller  details 
which  are  given  in  Stanley's  Life.  It  may  suffice  here 
to  enumerate  them  briefly.  The  steps  he  took  in  the 
way  of  reform  were,  even  when  boldest  and  most  reso- 
lute, cautious  and  tentative.     He  had  the  wisdcnn  to 

1  Gerald  Everdey's  Friends/iip,  J.  E.  C.  Welldon,  p.  T.'i. 


80  THOMAS   A  K  NO  LI) 

know  that  a  new  head  master  who  insists  at  once  on 
nieasnres  of  reform  which  appear  to  liis  colleagues 
and  to  the  older  boys  to  be  needless  and  revolu- 
tionary, may  defeat  his  own  purpose  by  creating  the 
friction  and  opposition  a  little  tact  might  render  un- 
necessary. His  first  duty  is  to  accept  and  turn  to  use 
whatever  of  good  tlicrc  is  in  tlie  existing  system,  his 
next  to  modify  and  iiiiinovo  that  system,  as  experi- 
ence enables  him  to  juake  sure  of  Ids  ground.  For  ■ 
example,  he  niade  no  attempt  to  abolish  fagging,  but 
determined  to  avail  himself  of  that  venerable  institu- 
tion. "Another  system,"  he  said,  "might  perhaps  be 
better  than  this,  but  I  am  placed  here  in  the  midst  of 
this  one  and  must  make  the  best  of  it."  So  he  first 
souglit  and  won  the  confidence  of  the  sixth  form,  told 
them  frankly  that  he  regarded  them  as  invested  with 
responsibility,  and  that  he  relied  on  their  help.  "I 
want  you  to  feel,"  he  used  to  say  to  them,  "  how  enor- 
mous is  the  influence  you  possess  here  on  all  below 
you."  Nothing  seemed  to  him  of  so  much  importance 
as  to  secure  a  body  of  praepostors  distinguished  by 
high  principle,  gentlemaidy  conduct,  and  intellectual 
ability.  "  You  should  feel,"  he  told  them,  "  like  offi- 
cers in  the  army  whose  want  of  moral  courage  would 
be  thought  cowardice.  When  1  have  confidence  in 
the  sixth,  there  is  no  post  in  England  for  which  1 
would  exchange  this;  but  if  they  do  not  support  me,  I 
must  go."  He  believed  that  one  way  of  making  a  boy 
a  gentleman  was  to  treat  him  as  one,  and  to  show  that 
he  was  respected  aiul  trusted.  Va'ou  in  the  lower  part 
of  tlu!  school  he  never  seeuu>d  on  tlie  watch  for  boys, 


MORAL   DISCIPLINE  81 

and  in  the  higlier  any  attempt  at  further  proof  of  an 
assertion  was  at  once  checked.  ^'  If  you  say  so,  that 
is  quite  enough  for  nie;  of  course  I  take  your  word." 
And  hence  it  came  to  be  the  current  opinion  of  the 
school  that  it  was  a  shame  to  tell  Arnold  a  lie,  for  he 
always  believed  it ! 

The  annals  of  English  education  present  to  our 
view  no  eminent  teacher  who  was  more  profoundly 
penetrated  than  Arnold  with  the  need  of  a  moral 
basis  for  all  school  work.  Aristotle  had  taught  him 
that  in  advancing  towards  ideal  perfection,  the  im- 
provement of  the  moral  faculties  should  go  on  con- 
currently with  the  development  of  intellectual  powers. 
Hence  he  never  ceased  to  insist  on  the  paramount  im- 
portance of  training  as  distinguished  from  teaching. 
Every  evil  habit  conquered,  and  every  good  habit 
formed,  he  knew  would  remove  one  obstacle  to  the 
energy  of  the  intellect  and  assist  in  invigorating  its 
nature.  He  thought  that  few  spectacles  were  more 
appalling  than  that  of  a  youth  of  high  mental  gifts 
divorced  from  moral  principle. 

When  habits  of  self-indulgence  and  lawlessness 
have  become  so  confirmed  in  a  community  of  high- 
spirited  youths  as  to  be  part  of  its  traditions,  rapid 
and  drastic  reform  is  practically  impossible,  and 
it  would  be  dangerous  and  Quixotic  for  a  master 
to  attempt  it.  It  was  therefore  by  degrees  that 
Arnold  sought  to  remove  the  worst  and  most  ob- 
stinate of  these  usages.  Eor  example,  the  prac- 
tice of  keeping  beagles  and  guns  surreptitiously 
in  the   back   premises   of   the    boarding-houses    was 

G 


82  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

effectually  stopped,  not  by  a  peremptory  prohibition, 
but  by  simply  ruling  tliat  houses  in  which  they 
were  kept  should  be  held  to  be  out  of  the  school 
bounds, —  a  rule  which  practically  involved  some- 
thing like  financial  ruin  to  the  house-master  unless  a 
change  were  made.  It  was  more  difficult  to  deal  with 
the  sporting  section  of  the  elder  boys,  who  Avere  wont 
to  hire  horses  at  Duiiclinrcli,  three  miles  off,  iu  the 
heart  of  a  famous  liuntiiig  country,  and  to  indulge  in 
steeplechase  and  other  races.  I\[r.  Hughes  tells  of 
one  such  race  which  excited  so  much  animation  and 
enthusiasm  among  the  boys  that  they  resolved  to 
have  another,  and  made  all  arrangements  with  jockeys 
and  umi)ires  for  a  longer  race  across  country.  It 
was  commonly  said  of  Arnold  that  he  knew  better 
than  any  one  when  to  look,  and  when  to  see  nothing. 
However,  it  was  expected  in  this  case  that  there 
would  be  a  "row,"  and  that  he  would  publicly  notice 
the  breach  of  rule  which  had  been  committed,  and 
forbid  its  intended  repetition.  Nothing,  however, 
was  publicly  said;  but  in  the  evening  the  chief  of 
the  sportsmen,  a  ])romising  sixth-form  youth,  was  sent 
for,  and  the  Doctor  said:  "I  know  all  about  tlie 
match  you  rode  the  other  day.  If  I  had  taken  any 
public  notice  of  it,  I  must  have  expelled  you  pub- 
licly. Tills  would  have  ruined  your  career  at  Oxford, 
where  you  have  just  matriculated,  and  I  hope  will 
do  well.  ]iut  I  have  written  to  your  father  to  tell 
him  of  your  flagrant  breach  of  discipline.  And  now 
let  me  warn  you  and  your  friends.  I  know  Avhat 
you  are  inttMiding,  and   I    will  vK\tv\  every  boy  who 


EXPULSION  83 

rides  or  is  present,  and  will  have  the  road  watched  to 
get  the  names."  Mr.  Hughes  adds,  "That  race  did 
not  come  off,  or  any  other  during  Arnold's  time." 
That  boys  should  wish  to  see  a  race  he  thought 
reasonable  enough;  and  a  few  weeks  afterwards, 
when  there  was  a  grand  steeplechase  at  Dunchurch, 
we  find  Clough  writing  to  Arthur  Stanley,  *'  Arnold 
very  wisely  and  indulgently  altered  the  hour  of  call- 
ing over,  and  took  off  the  Dunchurch  prohibition  for 
the  day,  so  at  least  nine-tenths  of  the  school  Avere 
present  to  see  the  sport. "  ^ 

Again,  he  resolutely  expelled  a  boy  wliose  influence 
tended  to  degrade  the  public  opinion  of  the  school  or 
to  be  seriously  detrimental  to  his  companions.  There 
were  few  points  on  Avliich  he  was  more  emphatic  and 
determined  than  this.  "  Undoubtedly  it  would  be 
better  if  there  was  no  evil,  but  evil  being  unavoid- 
able, we  are  not  a  jail  to  keep  it  in,  but  a  place  of 
education  where  we  must  cast  it  out,  to  prevent  its 
taint  from  spreading."  Again,  "If  a  boy  has  set  his 
mind  to  do  nothing,  but  considers  all  the  work  here 
as  so  much  fudge,  which  he  will  evade  if  he  can,  he 
is  sure  to  corrupt  the  rest,  and  I  will  send  him  away 
without  scruple."  Such  a  course  necessarily  proved 
unpopular,  and  brought  about  at  first  a  good  deal  of 
remonstrance  from  parents  and  muttered  discontent 
among  the  boys.  They  were  scared  and  silenced, 
however,  when  he  broke  out  one  day  with  the  oft- 
quoted  allocution:  "It  is  not  necessary  that  this 
should  be  a  school  for  three  hundred,  or  even  one 

1  TJie  Great  Public  Schools.    Article  on  Rugby. 


84  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

hundred,  boys,  but  it  is  necessary  that  it  should  be  a 
school  of  Christian  gentlemen."  Those  who  have  seen 
in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  in  London  tlie  ad- 
mirable portrait  of  Arnold  by  Diillips,  and  have 
marked  tlie  keen  eye,  the  firm  and  resolute  mouth, 
and  the  masterful  pose  of  the  head  Avill  easily  under- 
stand the  tone  in  which  he  would  utter  tliese  words 
and  the  rather  startling  effect  Avhich  they  produced. 

Yet  it  is  noticeable  that  although  his  great  aim 
was  to  give  a  Cliristian  tone  to  the  little  community, 
he  did  not  set  about  increasing  the  number  of  reli- 
gious services  or  theological  lessons,  or  rely  for  the 
fulfilment  of  his  ideal  on  wliat  is  often  described  as 
definite  dogmatic  teaching.  "lie  shrank,"  says  Stan- 
ley, "from  pressing  on  the  conscience  of  boys  rules 
of  action  which  he  felt  they  were  not  yet  able  to 
bear,  and  from  enforcing  acts  wliicli,  though  right 
in  themselves,  would  in  boys  be  performed  from 
wrong  motives."  .  \ 

The  school  chapel  became,  under  Arnold's  regime, 
the  centre  of  the  religious  life  of  the  community,  and 
played  an  important  part  in  the  discipline  of  the 
school.  Before  his  time  there  had  been  a  chaidain 
at  Rugby  as  well  as  a  head  master,  but  three  years 
after  Arnuld's  a^jpointment  the  former  office  fell 
vacant,  and  lie  ai)plied  to  the  trustees  for  the  ap- 
pointment without  the  salary.  The  use  he  made  of 
his  new  office  will  be  fully  appreciated  by  all  who 
read  the  published  volumes  containing  the  sermons 
])reached  in  Kugby  cha])td.  Arthtir  Stanley,  at  tlie 
age  of  eighteen,   said   ol'   Arnold's   sermons   tliat  he 


SCHOOL   SERMONS  85 

never  heard  or  saw  anything  which  gave  him  so 
strongly  the  idea  of  inspiration.  The  prevailing 
note  of  these  sermons  is  intense  seriousness, —  a  deep 
sense  both  of  the  need  of  a  high  ideal  in  life  and 
of  the  difficulties  which  attend  its  realization.  His 
conception  of  the  purpose  which  a  school  sermon 
ought  to  serve  is  well  illustrated  in  this  passage 


■r 


"  It  is  not  enough  to  speak  of  sin  in  general  and  holiness 
in  general,  of  God  and  Christ,  of  death  and  judgement.  Some- 
thing more  clear  and  distinct  is  wanted.  You  know  very 
well  that  your  faults  are  not  those  which  you  read  of  most 
in  books,  for  books  are  written  by  men,  and  in  general  are 
intended  to  be  read  by  men  ;  they  speak  therefore  mostly  of 
the  sins  and  temptations  of  manhood  :  of  covetousness,  ambi- 
tion, injustice,  pride,  and  other  older  vices  with  wliicli  you 
feel  that  you  have  as  yet  but  small  concern.  Besides,  the 
pulpit  is  a  solemn  and  sacred  place,  whereas  the  matters 
with  which  you  are  daily  engaged  are  so  common  and  so 
humble,  that  it  seems  like  a  want  of  reverence  to  speak  of 
them  in  a  sermon  plainly  by  their  names.  And  yet,  if  we 
do  not  speak  of  them  plainly  by  their  names,  half  of  what 
we  say  will  be  lost  in  the  air."^  "^ 

Accordingly,  we  find  throughout  the  sermons  evi- 
dence of  a  full  acquaintance  with  the  peculiar  temp- 
tations which  school  life  presents,  and  a  keen  insight 
into  the  effects  produced  by  them  upon  the  character. 
Perhaps  of  all  the  evils  he  denounced  and  sought  to 
expose,  the  worst  was  the  cowardice  which  made  boys 
succumb  to  the  public  opinion  of  the  set  in  which 
they  happened  to  live. 

1  Sermon  V.,  Vol.  II. 


80  THOMAS    AK.NOLI) 

"There  arc  boys  who  have  cither  never  learned,  or  have 
(luite  furgotteu  all  that  may  have  been  told  them  at  home, 
of  the  duty  of  attending  to  tlieir  school  lessons.  We  know 
that  there  are  boys  who  tliink  all  their  lessons  merely  tire- 
some, and  who  are  resolved  never  to  Uike  any  more  trouble 
about  them  than  they  can  possibly  avoid.  But  being  thus 
idle  tliemselves  tliey  cannot  bear  that  others  should  be  more 
attentive.  We  all  know  the  terms  of  reproach  and  ridicule 
which  are  thrown  out  against  a  boy  who  works  in  earnest 
and  upon  principle.  He  is  lauglied  at  for  taking  unnecessary 
trouble,  for  being  afraid  of  punislunent,  or  for  wishing  to  gain 
favour  with  his  masters,  and  be  thouglit  by  tliem  to  be  better 
than  other  boys.  Either  of  these  reproaches  is  one  which  a 
boy  finds  it  very  hard  to  bear;  he  does  not  like  to  be  thought 
afraid,  or  as  wishing  to  court  favour.  He  has  not  age  or 
sense  or  firmness  enough  to  know,  that  the  oidy  fear  of  which 
he  needs  be  ashamed  is  the  fear  of  his  equals,  the  fear  of 
those  who  are  in  no  respect  better  than  himself,  and  have, 
therefore,  no  right  to  direct  him.  To  be  afraid  then  t)f  otlici- 
boys  is,  in  a  boy,  the  same  sort  of  weakness  as  it  is  in  a  man 
to  be  afraid  of  otiier  men,  and  as  a  man  t)uglit  to  be  etpially 
ashamed  of  fearing  men  and  of  not  fearing  God,  so  a  boy 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  fearing  boys,  and  also  to  be  ashametl 
of  not  fearing  his  parents  an<l  instructors.  And  as  in  after 
life,  the  fear  of  God  makes  no  man  do  anything  mean  or 
dishonourable,  but  the  fear  of  men  does  lead  to  all  sorts  of 
weakness  and  baseness,  so  among  boys  the  fear  of  tiieir  parents 
and  teachers  will  only  make  them  manly  and  noble  and  high- 
spirited,  but  the  fear  of  tlieir  companions  leads  tlicm  to  be 
everytliing  low  and  cliihiisli  and  contemptible." 

Another  coiiuaou  scliool  vict',  tliat  i)f  extravagance, 
lie  traced  with  pitiless  clearness  to  its  root  in  mural 
cowardice : 


MORAL   COWARDICE  87 

"  There  are  some  boys  wlio,  remembering  the  wishes  of  their 
parents,  are  extremely  unwilling  to  incur  debts  and  to  spend 
a  great  deal  of  money  upon  their  own  eating,  drinking,  and 
amusements.  There  are  some,  too,  who,  knowing  that  the 
use  of  wine  or  any  liquor  of  that  sort  is  forbidden,  because 
the  use  of  it  among  boys  is  sure  to  be  the  abuse  of  it,  would 
not  indulge  in  anything  of  the  kind  themselves.  But  they 
are  assailed  by  the  example  and  the  reproaches  and  the 
laughter  of  others.  It  is  mean  and  poor-spirited  and  ungen- 
erous not  to  contribute  to  the  pleasures  and  social  enjoyments 
of  their  companions ;  in  short,  not  to  do  as  others  do.  The 
charge  of  stinginess,  of  not  spending  his  money  liberally,  is  i 
one  which  a  boy  is  particularly  sore  at  hearing.  He  forgets 
that  in  his  case  such  a  charge  is  the  greatest  possible  folly.  / 
Where  is  the  generosity  of  spending  money  which  is  not  your 
own,  and  which,  as  soon  as  it  is  spent,  is  to  be  supplied  again 
with  no  sacrifice  on  your  part  1  AVhere  is  the  stinginess  of 
not  choosing  to  beg  money  of  your  dearest  friends  in  order 
to  employ  it  in  a  manner  which  those  friends  would  disap- 
prove ?  For  after  all  tlie  money  must  come  from  them,  as 
you  have  it  not,  nor  can  you  earn  it  for  yourselves.  But 
there  is  another  laugh  behind ;  a  boy  is  laughed  at  for  being 
kept  so  strictly  at  home  that  he  cannot  get  money  as  he 
likes,  and  he  is  taught  to  feel  ashamed  and  angry  at  tlie  hard 
restraint  which  is  laid  upon  him.  Truly  that  boy  has  gone 
a  good  way  in  the  devil's  service,  who  will  dare  to  set  an- 
l  other  against  his  father  and  mother,  and  who  will  teach  him 
I  that  their  care  and  authority  are  things  which  he  should  be 
ashamed  of."^ 

His  perception  of  the  evils  and  dangers  which 
attended  public-school  life  Avill  thus  be  seen  to  have 
been  very  keen,  yet  his  biographer  tells  us  that  there 
was  hardly  ever  a  sermon  which  did  not  contain  some 

1  Sermon  VIII.,  p.  71. 


88  THOMAS    AI;N<jL1) 

words  of  encouragement.  "I  liave  never,"  lie  said  in 
his  last  sermon,  "wished  to  speak  with  exaggeration; 
it  seems  to  me  as  unwise  as  it  is  wrong  to  do  so.  I 
think  that  it  is  quite  riglit  to  observe  wliat  is  hopeful 
in  us  as  Avell  as  wliat  is  threatening.  General  con- 
fessions of  unmi.xed  evils  are  deceiving  and  hardening 
rather  than  arousing,  and  our  evil  never  looks  so 
really  dark  as  wln-u  we  euiitrast  it  witli  anything 
whieli  there  may  be  in  us  of  good.'*'^ 

Although  by  his  own  early  training,  and  by  the 
necessities  of  his  position  as  head  master  of  Kugby, 
he  was  essentially  a  "public-school"  man,  identified 
with  the  system  of  great  boarding-schools,  he  was  not 
insensible  to  the  disadvantages  of  that  system,  not 
the  least  of  Avhich  Avas  the  alienation  of  the  boys 
from  home  influence.  In  his  view  the  ideal  method 
of  education  Avas  a  combination  of  the  home  and  the 
school,  and  he  thought  it  a  misfortune  to  a  boy  to  be 
handed  over  for  so  large  a  portion  of  his  young  life 
to  the  care  of  strangers,  in  an  artihcial  community, 
in  which  the  domestic  affections,  which  ought  ever  to 
exercise  so  large  a  share  in  the  formation  of  a  noble 
character,  were  necessarily  overlaid  or  discouraged. 

"You  sometimes,"  he  said,  "learn  to  feel  a.shained  of  in- 
dulging your  natural  afi'ections,  and  particularly  of  being 
attached  to  your  mothers  and  sisters,  and  fond  of  their 
society.  You  fancy  it  is  unmanly  to  ho  tliought  to  have 
been  influenced  by  them,  and  you  are  afraid  of  beuig  sup- 
posed to  long  too  nuich  for  their  tenderness  and  indulgent 

1  Sermonc,  Vol.  V.,  \i.  m). 


HOME   INFLUENCE  89 

kindness  towards  you.  ...  I  am  afraid,  it  cannot  be 
doubted,  tliat  it  is  2:)eculiarly  the  eftect  of  the  public  schools 
of  England  to  lower  and  weaken  the  connexion  between 
parent  and  child,  to  lessen  mutual  confidence,  and  to  make 
a  son  regard  liis  father  with  more  of  respect  than  of  love. 
Certainly,  at  least,  the  relation  in  other  countries  of  Europe 
is  on  a  different  footing ;  there  is  more  of  cordial  intimacy, 
more  of  real  familiar  friendship  between  parents  and  chil- 
dren than  generally  exists  among  us.  .  .  .  The  situation 
of  those  boys  I  have  always  thought  most  fortunate,  with 
all  the  opportunities  of  forming  lasting  friendships  with  those 
of  their  own  age,  which  a  public  school  so  largely  affords,  and 
with  the  opportunities  also  of  keeping  up  all  their  home 
affections,  of  never  losing  that  lively  interest  in  all  that  is 
said  and  done  under  their  fiither's  roof,  which  an  absence  of 
several  months  cannot  fail  in  some  measure  to  chill.  .  .  . 
Your  fault  then  is  by  so  much  the  greater  if  you  make  your- 
selves strangers  to  domestic  feelings  and  affections ;  if  you 
think  you  have  any  dearer  friendship.?,  or  any  that  can  better 
become  youth  or  manhood,  than  those  which  God  himself  has 
marked  out  for  you  in  your  homes.  Add  others  to  them  if 
you  will,  and  it  is  your  duty  and  your  wisdom  to  do  so.  .  .  . 
/  But  beware  how  you  let  any  less  sacred  connexion  weaken 
the  solemn  and  universal  bond  of  domestic  love.  Remem- 
ber that  when  Christ  took  our  nature  upon  Him  and  went 
through  every  stage  of  human  life  to  show  us  our  peculiar 
duties  in  each,  one  of  the  only  two  things  recorded  of  Him 
before  He  arrived  at  manhood,  is  His  dutiful  regard  to  His 
parents.  '  He  went  down  to  Nazareth  and  was  subject  unto 
them.' " 

One  important  feature  of  his  preaching  was  the 
constant  insistence  on  mental  cultivation  as  a  reli- 
gious duty.  It  is  difficult  to  measure  the  harm  Avhich 
is  done  by  some  religious  teachers  in  speaking  of  the 


90  THOMAS   AKNOLI) 

cultivation  ot"  the  intellect  as  a  tiling  ajiart  from  the 
religious  life.  It  is  far  more  common  to  hear  from 
pulpits  denunciations  of  the  pride  of  intellect  and  the 
dangers  of  secular  learning,  than  to  receive  a  serious 
exhortation  to  make  the  best  of  our  intellectual 
powers,  and  so  to  fit  ourselves  better  for  the  posses- 
sion of  influence  and  for  the  discharge  of  duty.  But 
to  Arnold  it  always  appeared  that  the  religion  of  a 
school-boy  should  include  diligence  and  study,  and  a 
sedulous  cultivation  of  whatever  powers  and  gifts  he 
might  possess. 

"Generally,  to  all  young  persons  God's  call  is  to  improve 
themselves,  but  wliat  particular  sort  of  improvement  he  calls 
you  to,  may  be  learned  from  the  station  of  life  in  which  he 
has  placed  you.  If  you  were  born  in  a  station  in  which  yon 
would  be  called  upon  to  work  chiefly  with  your  hands  here- 
after, then  the  strengthening  of  your  bodies,  the  learning  to 
be  active  and  handy,  to  be  bold  and  enduring  of  bodily  pain 
and  labour,  would  be  your  special  duty  over  and  above  the 
conunon  duty  of  love  to  God  and  man,  which  belongs  to  every 
age  and  every  condition  alike.  .  .  .  Although  it  be  very  true 
that  the  mind  works  feebly  when  the  body  is  sickly,  and  that 
therefore  you  are  called  ujjon  like  all  other  jiersons,  to  make 
yourselves,  as  far  as  you  can,  strong  and  active  and  hcaltld'ul 
and  i)atient  in  your  bodies,  yet  your  especial  call  is  rather  to 
improve  your  minds,  because  it  is  with  your  minds  that  CJod 
calls  upon  you  to  work  hereafter."^ 

The  same  view  is  strongly  accentuatetl  in  a  letter 
to  an  old  pupil.  "1  rejoice  that  your  mind  seems  to 
be  in  a  healthier  state  about  the  prosecution  of  your 
studies.     I  am  quite  sure  that  it  is  a  most  solemn 

ISlTIllOM    Xlll. 


INTELLECTUAL  CLOTURE  A  RELIGIOUS  DUTY     91 

duty  to  cultivate  our  understandings  to  the  uttermost, 
for  I  have  seen  the  evil  moral  consequences  of  fanati- 
cism to  a  greater  degree  than  I  ever  expected  to  see 
them  realized,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  a  neglected 
intellect  is  far  oftener  the  cause  of  mischief  to  a  man 
than  a  perverted  or  overvalued  one."^ 

It  will  be  observed  that  throughout  the  school  ser- 
mons there  is  much  less  of  theological  teaching  than 
of  an  endeavour  to  illustrate  the  bearing  of  Christian- 
ity on  the  daily  practical  life  of  the  school-boy.  The 
love  of  truth,  the  love  of  home,  the  conditions  of 
honest  intellectual  work,  and  the  responsibility  which 
rests  upon  the  possessors  either  of  knowledge  or  of 
other  gifts  to  make  tliose  gifts  of  service  to  others, 
are  the  constant  themes.  Arnold's  dread  of  unreality 
made  him  shrink  from  any  attempt  to  set  before  the 
boys  impossible  standards,  or  to  exact  from  them  lan- 
guage implying  maturer  convictions  than  it  Avas 
possible  for  them  to  possess.  He  dreaded  most  of 
all  unreality,  or  insincere  professions  of  religion. 
He  -was  not  at  all  distinguished  for  the  use  of  current 
religious  phraseology  in  his  intercourse  with  boys; 
still  less  was  he  willing  to  encourage  them  to  employ 
such  phraseology  to  him  or  to  one  another.  He  be- 
lieved that  would  be  beginning  at  the  wrong  end.  If 
in  time  he  made  religious  services  and  lessons  more 
prominent,  it  was  by  slow  degrees  that  he  first  sought 
to  create  the  wish  for  them  as  privileges,  rather  than 
to  impose  them  by  authority  as  duties.  For  example, 
he  took  advantage  of  the  awe  and  seriousness  which 

1  Stanley,  Letter  CXXXVIII. 


92  TIKt.MAS    ARNOLD 

came  over  the  wliole  community  when  one  of  the 
boys  died;  and  on  the  following  day,  which  was 
Sunday,  he  said : 

"When  I  came  yesterday  from  visiting  the  death-bed  of 
him  who  has  liceu  taken  from  us,  and  looked  roimd  upon  all 
the  familiar  objects  and  scenes  within  our  own  ground,  — 
where  your  common  amusements  were  going  on,  with  your 
common  chcnfulncss  and  activity,  —  I  felt  tliat  tlicrc  was 
nothing  painful  in  that;  it  did  not  seem  in  any  way  shocking, 
or  out  of  tune  with  those  feelings  which  the  sight  of  a  dying 
Christian  must  be  supposed  to  awaken.  The  unsuitablencss 
in  point  of  natural  feeling  between  scenes  of  moiuniiig  ami 
scenes  of  liveliness  did  not  at  all  present  itself.  liut  I  did 
feel  that  if  any  of  those  faults  had  been  brought  Wfore  me 
which  sometimes  occur  amongst  us,  had  I  heard  that  any  of 
you  had  been  guilty  of  falsehood  or  drunkenness,  or  any  such 
sin,  had  I  heard  from  any  quarter  the  language  of  profane- 
ness  or  unkindness  or  indecency,  had  I  heard  or  seen  any 
signs  of  that  wretched  folly  which  courts  the  laugh  of  fools 
by  affecting  to  dread  evil  and  not  to  care  for  good,  then  the 
unsuitablencss  of  any  of  these  things  with  the  scene  I  had 
just  quitted  would  have  been  intensely  painful.  And  why? 
Not  because  such  things  would  really  have  been  worse  than 
at  any  other  time,  but  because  at  such  a  moment  the  eyes 
arc  opened  really  to  know  good  and  evil ;  because  we  then 
feel  what  it  is  so  to  live  that  death  becomes  an  infinite  bless- 
ing, and  also  Avhat  it  is  so  to  live  that  it  were  good  for  us  if 
we  iiad  never  been  born." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  ho  introduced  into  the 
sixth  form  the  habit  of  using  a  short  jjrayev  before 
the  first  exercise  every  day,  over  and  above  the  ordi- 
nary morning  prayers.  He  di<l  not  attemjit  this  in 
tlic  lower  part  of  the  school;  younger  boys  were  not 


THE   ASSOCIATIOXS   OF   A   GREAT   SCHOOL      93 

prepared  to  appreciate  or  welcome  such  an  innova- 
tion; but  when  he  had  conveyed  into  the  minds  of 
his  highest  class  the  conviction  that  every-day  work 
ought  to  be  consecrated,  and  that  the  contrast  between 
a  death-bed  scene  and  the  routine  of  school  business 
ought  not  to  be  painful,  and  would  not  be  so  if  the 
school  business  itself  were  made  religious,  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  daily  prayer  before  the  first  lesson  had 
a  new  meaning;  for  here  the  outward  religious  form 
came  after  the  feeling  which  it  was  meant  to  express, 
and  not  before  it  or  apart  from  it. 

Arnold  had  great  faith  in  the  educative  and  enno- 
bling influence  of  association  with  a  great  school,  as 
distinguished  from  a  small  or  private  seminary.  He 
knew  that  for  a  youth  on  entering  into  life  it  was  a 
high  privilege  to  belong  to  an  institution  or  a  society 
with  great  and  venerable  traditions  and  a  long  his- 
toric record,  —  a  society  of  which  he  was  proud,  and 
which  he  might  reasonably  hope  would  some  day 
become  proud  of  him.  He  had  learned  from  his 
master  Aristotle  that,  though  private  education  might 
be  useful  in  special  cases  to  correct  particular  fax:lts, 
yet  that  in  the  main,  education  in  public  institutions  ! 
watched  over,  if  not  prescribed,  by  the  State,  was  the  j 
best  fitted  to  prepare  a  man  for  the  duties  of  citizen- 
ship and  for  the  work  of  life.  The  noble  conception 
of  Aristotle  of  the  magnanimous  man,  his  scorn  of 
the  fiiKp6\j/vxo<;,  or  small-souled  man,  were  ever  present 
to  Arnold's  mind,  and  he  thought  a  scholar  was  in  part 
protected  from  littleness  by  belonging  to  a  community 
which  had  large  and  far-reaching  interests  and  was 


04  ,  THOMAS   ARXOLn 

recognized  by  the  State  as  a  public  institution. 
Hence  he  never  ceased  to  dwell  on  the  importance 
of  sustaining  the  corporate  life  and  the  feeling  of 
corporate  interests  in  the  school.  In  a  sermon 
preached  at  liugby  on  Founder's  day,  this  view  is 
stated  at  length  with  much  clearness  and  force : 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is,  or  ought  to  be,  sometliing 
very  ennobling  in  being  connected  with  any  establishment  at 
once  ancient  and  magnificent,  where  all  about  us  and  all  the 
associations  belonging  to  the  objects  around  us  shouM  be 
great,  splendid,  and  elevating.  What  an  individual  ()\ight 
to  derive,  and  often  does  derive,  from  tlic  feeling  that  he  is 
born  of  an  old  and  illustrious  race,  from  being  familiar  from 
liis  childhood  with  the  walls  and  with  the  trees  that  speak 
of  the  past  no  less  than  of  the  present,  and  make  botli  full 
of  images  of  greatness,  this  in  an  inferior  degree  belongs  to 
every  member  of  an  ancient  and  celebrated  place  of  educa- 
tion. In  this  respect  every  one  has  a  resi)onsihility  imposed 
upon  him,  which  I  wish  that  we  more  consiilered.  We  know 
how  school  traditions  are  handed  down  from  one  school  gen- 
eration to  another,  and  what  is  it,  if  in  all  tliese  there  shall 
be  nothing  great,  nothing  distinguished,  nothing  but  a  record, 
to  say  the  best  of  it,  of  mere  boyish  anmsements,  when  it  is 
not  a  record  of  boyish  follies?  Every  generation  in  which  a 
low  and  foolish  spirit  prevails  does  its  best  to  ]iollute  the 
local  influences  of  the  i)lace,  to  dei)rive  tlie  thought  of  belong- 
ing to  it  of  anything  that  may  enkindle  and  ennoble  tlie 
minds  of  those  who  come  after  it.  And  if  tliese  foolish  or 
tame  associations  continue,  they  make  the  evil  worse  ;  persons 
who  appreciate  highly  the  elevating  influence  of  a  great  and 
ancient  foundation  will  no  longer  send  their  sons  to  a  jilaoe 
which  has  forfeit(^d  one  of  its  most  valuable  jiowera,  whose 
antifjuity  has  nothing  of  the  dignity,  nothing  of  the  romance, 
of  iuiti((uity,  hut  is  eitiuTa  blaidc  or  \vors(>  than  a  lilank.     So 


SCHOOL   TRADITIONS       \^C^UF^|A. 

the  spirit  gets  lower  and  lower,  and  instead  of  finding  a  help 
and  an  encouragement  in  tlie  associations  of  its  place  of 
education,  the  ingenuous  mind  feels  them  all  no  more  than 
a  weight  upon  its  efforts ;  they  only  tend  to  thwart  it  and 
keep  it  down.  This  is  the  tendency  not  only  of  a  vicious 
tone,  but  even  of  a  foolish  and  childish  one,  of  a  tone  that 
tolerates  ignorance  and  an  indifference  about  all  save  the 
amusements  of  the  day.  On  the  other  hand,  whatever  is 
done  liere  well  and  honourably,  outlives  its  own  genera- 
tion. .  .  .  The  size,  the  scale,  the  wealth,  of  a  great  insti- 
tution like  this  ensures  its  permanency,  so  far  as  anything 
on  earth  is  permanent.  The  good  and  the  evil,  the  noble- 
ness or  the  vileness,  which  may  exist  on  this  ground  now, 
will  live  and  breathe  here  in  the  days  of  our  children ;  they 
will  form  the  atmosphere  in  whicli  they  will  live  hereafter, 
either  wholesome  and  invigorating,  or  niunbing  and  deadly."* 

Arnold's  dread  of  any  theory  which  would  tend  to 
view  the  life  of  the  scholar  as  a  thing  apart  from  the 
life  of  a  Christian,  found  further  expression  in  a 
memorable  sermon  on  Christian  education,  from  the 
striking  text  in  Deuteronomy,  "  Ye  shall  teach  these 
my  words  unto  your  children,  speaking  of  them  when 
thou  sittest  in  thine  house  and  when  thou  walkest 
by  the  way,  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou 
risest  up."  The  preaclier  takes  the  opportunity  of 
protesting  earnestly  against  any  attempt  to  divorce 
religious  from  secular  instruction,  or  to  treat  them 
as  distinct  parts  of  an  educational  scheme.  The 
device  sometimes  advocated  in  later  times  for  solving 
the  religious  difficulty  in  our  common  and  munici- 
pal schools,  by  confining  the  functions  of  the  school 

1  Sermon  XVI.,  Vol.  III.,  p.  210. 


96  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

teacher  to  secular  instruction  and  calling  in  the  aiil 
of  the  clergy  or  other  specialists  to  give  lessons  on 
religion  at  separate  hours,  would  have  seemed  to  him 
wholly  indefensible,  and  indeed  fatal  to  any  true 
conception  of  the  relation  of  religious  knowledge  to 
other  knowledge. 

"  It  is  clear  tliat  neither  is  the  Bible  alone  sufficient  to 
give  a  complete  religious  c(hication,  nor  is  it  possible  to  tendi 
history,  and  uKjral  and  puliticul  pliilosophy,  with  no  reforcnec 
to  the  Bible,  witliout  giving  an  cdueation  that  shall  be  anti- 
religious.  For,  in  the  one  case,  tlie  rule  is  given  without  the 
application,  and  in  the  other,  the  ai)plication  is  derived  from 
a  wrong  rule.  If,  indeed,  history  were  rigorously  nothing 
but  a  simple  collection  of  particular  facts ;  if  the  writers 
made  no  remarks  on  tliein,  and  the  readers  drew  from  them 
no  conclusions,  there  might  indeed  be  no  reference  to  a  wrong 
rule,  and  the  study  miglit  be  harmless  except  as  a  waste  of 
time.  But  as  this  is  not  and  cannot  be  the  case,  as  almost 
every  writer  of  history  does  comment  upon  his  facts  and  reason 
about  them,  and  as  all  readers,  even  when  they  cannot  be 
said  to  draw  conclusions  from  a  history,  are  yet  sure  to  catch 
some  moral  impression,  so  it  becomes  impossible  to  read  and 
think  much  about  human  actions  and  human  character,  with- 
out referring  bt)tli  to  God's  standard,  and  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  to  avoid  separating  off  a  lai'ge  portion  of  our  moral 
nature  from  the  guidance  and  habitual  sovereignty  of  (lod."  ' 

His  strongest  sentiment  as  a  teacher,  that  the 
intellectual  life  should  be  dominated  and  controlled 
by  moral  and  spii-ituiil  iiilhuMiccs,  is  W(dl  summed  up 
in  a,  ])liras('  wliicli  occurs  in  a  letter  to  ;in  obi  pupil. 
"1  call  by  the  name  of  wisdom,  knowledge  rich  and 

'  S.Tinoii  XVI..  Vol.  III. 


CLERICAL   SCHOOLMASTERS  97 

varied,  digested  and  combined,  and  pervaded  throngh 
and  through  by  the  light  of  the  spirit  of  God." 

The  union  of  the  clerical  office  with  that  of  the 
schoolmaster,  which,  with  few  exceptions,  has  been 
the  traditional  practice  of  the  public  schools  for  four 
centuries,  was  thus  in  Arnold's  case  justified  in  a 
remarkable  degree.  And  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
it  has  some  advantages.  Parents,  in  parting  with 
the  moral  supervision  of  their  sons,  are  not  unreason- 
ably disposed  to  place  increased  confidence  in  a  head 
master  who  combines  the  scholarship  and  skill  of  the 
teacher  with  the  dignity  and  weight  of  tlie  clergy- 
man's office.  And  it  is  unquestionable  that  the 
opportunity  thus  afforded  to  tlie  head  master  of  per- 
forming pastoral  functions,  and  especially  of  preach- 
ing in  the  school  chapel,  gives  unity  to  the  whole 
discipline  of  the  institution  and  adds  to  his  own 
means  of  influence.  In  days  in  which  scholars  by 
profession  were  nearly  all  in  holy  orders,  the  most 
obvious  and  reasonable  course  for  a  governing  body 
was  to  choose  the  head  master  from  the  clerical 
ranks.  But  in  view  of  the  state  of  learning  and  the 
educational  requirements  of  our  own  times,  the  sur- 
vival of  this  usage  is  not  only  undesirable,  but 
often  mischievous.  It  seriously  narrows  the  range 
of  choice  open  to  trustees  and  governors.  INIany 
men  of  the  highest  academic  distinction  do  not  take 
orders,  and  yet  desire  to  devote  themselves  to  the 
profession  of  teacher.  The  demand  for  skill  and 
educational  experience,  in  addition  to  some  acquain- 
tance with  the  philosophy  and  the  history  of  teach- 


98  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

ing,  is  dail}'-  mnro  audible;  and  oxporionco  does  not. 
show  that  these  qualities  are  more  likely  to  be  pos- 
sessed by  a  clergyman  than  by  a  layman.  The  fact 
that  the  head-mastership  of  a  great  public  school 
often  proves  a  step  to  ecclesiastical  preferment  is  in 
itself  not  without  its  drawbacks.  It  subordinates 
the  profession  of  a  teacher  to  that  of  a  church  dig- 
nitary; it  prevents  the  bestowal  of  a  man's  best 
powers  upon  the  duties  of  a  schoolmaster,  by  setting 
before  him  as  an  object  of  higher  ambition  the 
attainment  of  a  deanery  or  a  bishopric.  Sometimes, 
also,  the  candidate  for  the  headship  of  a  public 
school  expresses  his  Avillingness  to  take  orders  if  he 
is  elected;  although,  teaching  apart,  tlie  clerical  voca- 
tion may  not  be  specially  congenial  to  him.  In  this 
way  a  grave  injustice  is  often  done  to  scholars  of 
eminence,  who  have  sought  to  qualify  themselves  for 
the  profession  of  teaching  and  intend  to  make  it  the 
business  of  their  lives. 

We  may  look  forward,  then,  with  hope  to  the  time 
when,  as  a  rule,  laymen  will  fill  the  highest  scholas- 
tic offices,  or  when,  at  least,  men  will  be  chosen  for 
those  offices  on  the  grounds  of  their  professional 
qualifications  onl}-,  without  reference  to  the  accident 
of  their  liaving  taken  or  not  taken  holy  orders.  In 
no  other  way  can  the  function  of  the  schoolmaster 
assume  its  rightful  rank  among  the  liberal  and 
learned  professions.  Nevertheless,  it  will  nearly 
always  happen  that  a  ])erson  gifted  with  the  true 
teaching  instinct,  and  conscious  of  his  own  responsi- 
bility in  I'l'gard  to  tlie  moral  and  spiritual  well-lteing 


CHRISTIAN    EDUCATION  99 

of  his  scholars,  will  greatly  value  the  opportunity  of 
addressing  the  school  collectively  on  the  highest  of 
all  subjects.  And  for  this  purpose  a  license  to 
preach  in  the  college  chapel  should  be  obtained  from 
the  bishop  of  the  diocese.  No  breach  of  church  order 
would  occur  if  the  school  were  thus  regarded  as  a 
pecuUum,  outside  the  ordinary  ecclesiastical  rules, 
with  its  ordained  chaplain  for  the  performance  of  the 
Church's  ordinances,  and  with  special  recognition  of 
the  riglit  of  the  head  master  to  address  the  whole 
community  from  the  pulpit  whenever  he  desired  to 
do  so. 

Of  Arnold's  sermons  we  may  say  generally  that 
they  do  not  aim  at  theological  teaching,  and  that 
there  is  a  marked  absence  of  what  is  often  called 
dogmatic  statement,  or  of  any  attempt  prematurely 
to  form  the  opinions  of  boys  on  disputable  religious 
questions. 

"Give  me  credit,"  he  says  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "for  a 
most  sincere  desire  to  make  Rugby  a  place  of  Christian  edu- 
cation. At  tlie  same  time  my  object  will  be,  if  possible,  to 
form  Christian  men,  for  Christian  boys  I  can  scarcely  hope 
to  make.  I  mean  that,  from  the  naturally  imperfect  state  of 
boyhood,  they  are  not  susceptible  of  Christian  principles  in 
their  full  development  and  practice ;  and  I  suspect  that  a 
low  standard  of  morals  in  many  respects  must  be  tolerated 
among  them,  as  it  was  on  a  larger  scale,  in  what  I  consider 
the  boyhood  of  the  human  race." 

Hence  we  trace  throughout  the  school  sermons  an 
effort  to  awaken  and  inform  the  conscience,  to  arouse 
reverence  for  sacred  things,   and,  above  all,   for  the 


100  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

character  and  example  of  Christ;  to  inculcate  the 
habit  of  veracity  and  the  love  of  truth  for  its  own 
sake,  rather  than  to  enforce  any  number  of  truths 
as  understood  by  theologians;  and  to  encourage 
diligence  in  the  discharge  of  school  duty,  and  right 
and  generous  aspirations  after  future  honour  and 
usefulness.  As  the  best  means  of  attaining  these 
ends,  he  always  extolled  the  virtue  of  that  courage 
which  will  resist  what  is  evil  in  tlfe  public  opinion 
of  the  school,  and  which  will  render  all  other  forms 
of  excellence  easier  and  more  possible.  Nearly  all 
boyish  faults  and  vices  he  knew  ultimately  resolved 
themselves  into  cowardice.  Falsehood,  indolence, 
shirking,  the  low  ideal  of  duty  which  comes  from 
acquiescence  in  the  worst  usages  of  one's  fellows, — 
all  were  traceable  to  lack  of  courage.  L'esprit  de 
solidarite  doMS  le  mal,  he  thought  the  most  dangerous 
of  a  school-boy's  temptations,  and  he  never  ceased  to 
expose  it  and  to  denounce  it.  I5ut  it  does  not  need 
that  a  high-minded  Christian  schoolmaster  should 
have  been  ordained  as  a  priest,  in  order  tliat  he  may 
see  the  need  of  such  teaching  and  be  able  to  give  it 
with  effect,  and  in  the  right  spirit. 

On  the  subject  of  school  punishments,  Arnold  did 
not  profess  to  be  much  in  advance  of  his  age.  All 
the  traditions  of  the  public  schools  were  in  favour  of 
flogging.  In  some  of  the  corporate  seals  of  chartered 
foundations  a  rod  occupies  a  conspicuous  place  as  part 
of  tlie  arms  or  device  of  an  endowed  grammar  school. 
For  example,  the  common  seal  granted  to  the  Ix)uth 
(Jrammar  Scliool  with  the  letters-jiatent  of   Edward 


PUNISHMENTS  101 

the  Sixth  (1552)  represents  a  pedagogue  in  the  act 
of  inflicting  corporal  punishment,  and  contains  the 
legend,  Qui  imrcit  virge  odit  Jilium.  The  rod  was  in 
fact  the  emblem  of  discipline,  the  one  characteristic 
symbol  of  magisterial  authority.  Arnold  himself 
said,  in  one  of  his  letters  before  going  to  Rugby: 
"  When  I  think  about  this,  I  long  to  take  rod 
in  hand ; "  ^  and  so  far  as  the  y oun^r  boys  w^re^ 
concerned,  he  made  no  aiiology  for  retaining  the 
ancient  discipline  of  the  public  schools.  Had  he 
lived  in  later  times,  when  the  theory  of  education  and 
the  study  of  child  nature  have  received  more  system- 
atic attention,  when  other  and  wiser  means,  of  cor- 
recting evil  have  been  discovered,  and  when  some' 
of  the  best-ordered  and  happy  eoucatitii.al  oommupi-; 
ties  exist  without  the  employment  of  physical  pun- 
ishments in  any  form,  he  would  probably  have 
changed  his  views  on  this  subject,  and  acknowledged 
that  in  just  the  proportion  in  which  a  skilled  teacher 
understands  his  business,  it  becomes  less  necessary  for 
him  to  resort  to  corporal  punishment  at  all.  It  was 
with  increasing  reluctance  that  he  inflicted  it,  confin- 
ing it  chiefly  to  moral  offences,  such  as  lying,  drink- 
ing, and  habitual  idleness,  keeping  the  use  of  it  as 
much  as  possible  in  the  background,  and  for  younger 
scholars  only,  and  regarding  it  as  wholly  unsuited 
as  the  penalty  for  intellectual  weakness  or  dulness. 
Yet  to  merely  sentimental  objections  to  it  as  degrad- 
ing to  the  recipient  he  would  yield  nothing.  With 
characteristic  directness,  he  declared  that  corporal 
1  Letter  XXII, 


102  THOMAS   AUNOLD 

puuislimeut  litly  luaiktMl  uiul  uiiswuiuil  to  the  natii:, 
nilly  inferiur  state  ut'  buyhuud,  and  therei'ore  conveyed 
no  i)eculiar  degradation  to  persons  in  such  a  state. 
"  I  know  well  of  what  feeling  this  argument  about 
the  degrading  character  of  such  punishment  is  the 
expression.  It  originates  in  that  proud  notion  of 
personal  independence,  Avliich  is  neither  reasonable 
nor  Christian,  but  essentially  barbarian.  It  visited 
Europe  with  all  the  curses  of  the  age  of  chivalry,  and 
is  threatening  us  now  with  those  of  Jacobinism.  At 
an  age  when  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  a  true 
manly  sense  of  the  degradation  of  guilt  or  faults, 
•\diere'is.tae  Avisdom  of  encouraging  a  fantastic  sense 
of  the  degradation  of  personal  correction?"  The 
■  tho:a<^ht.  ;that  it,  was  sin  Avhich  degrades,  not  the  ^*^ 
punishment  of  sin,  was  ever  uppermost  in  liis  mind^r^ 
and  prominent  in  his  sermons.  "  \Vliat  I  want  to  seel 
in  the  school,  and  what  I  cannot  find,  is  an  abhor- 
rence of  evil.  I  always  tliink  of  the  psalm,  'Xeitherl 
doth  he  abhor  anything  that  is  evil.'  " 

Much  of  the  influence  he  gained  over  his  scholars 
—  influence  which  enabled  him  to  dispense  in  an 
increasing  degree  with  corporal  i)unishment  —  was 
attributable  to  his  knowledge  of  the  individual  char- 
acteristics of  boys.  lie  is  said  to  have  known  every  i 
boy  in  the  school,  his  ap[)earance,  his  habits,  and  his 
companions.  This  is  a  kind  of  knowledge  which  has 
long  Ix'cMi  known  to  be  cliaracteristic  of  the  disci-  ' 
l)liiiary  system  of  the  Jesuits,  but  has  not  boon 
common  among  the  liead  masters  of  English  public 
scliools.      Arnold   valued    it   higlily  and    found  many 


SCHOOL   SPORTS  AND  ATHLETICS  103 

opportuuities  of  turning  it  to  useful  account.  It 
cannot  be  said  that  he  was  always  genial  in  uuinuer; 
the  younger  boys,  especially,  regarded  liiui  with  awe, 
and  his  own  sense  of  the  intense  seriousness  of  life 
and  duty  gave  a  sternness  and  austerity  to  his  aspect 
which  made  many  of  his  pupils  afraid  of  him.  He 
liked  to  encourage  games  and  sports,  though  he 
seldom  joined  in  them,  and  had  a  healthy  love 
of  bathing,  exercise,  and  long  skirmishings  in  the 
country.  His  sympathy  with  these  pursuits  showed 
itself  mainly  in  hasty  and  occasional  visits  to  the 
school  close.  He  certainly  did  nothing  to  encourage 
that  extravagant  passion  for  athletics,  that  exaltation 
of  physical  prowess  to  the  same  level  as  intellectual 
distinction,  which  has  in  later  years  so  seriously 
debased  the  ideal  and  hindered  the  usefulness  of  the 
great  public  schools.  Mr.  Oscar  Browning  has  well 
said  on  this  point :  "  The  most  salient  characteristic  of 
modern  public  schools  is  the  reception  of  games  into 
the  curriculum  on  an  equality  with  work,  if  not  into 
a  superior  position.  Of  this  Arnold  would  entirely 
have  disapproved.  He  would  have  seen  that  it  min- 
istered to  a  lower  standard  of  effort,  that  it  vulgarized 
intellectual  labour,  that  it  substituted  self-indulgence 
for  self-denial,  and  that  it  placed  those  boys  in  posi- 
tions of  command  and  influence  who  were  frequently 
most  unfit  to  exercise  either  the  one  or  the  other." 

The  danger  of  the  modern  ^'  cultus "  of  sports  and 
athletics  is  precisely  that  which  Aristotle  pointed  out 
in  the  Politics  (VIII.  3-35)  when  he  denounced  the  ex- 
treme and  violent  training  which  was  imposed  by  the 


104  THOMAS   AIJNOLl) 

gymnastic  exercises  of  the  Spartan  youtli,  as  tending 
to  make  them  "  brutal  of  soul."  "  Physical  courage  is 
not  the  only  end,"  he  urged,  *Ho  be  aimed  at  in  civil 
education."  A  savage  and  brutal  soul  is  less  compati- 
ble Avith  exalted  courage  than  a  gentle  soul  trained 
so  as  to  be  exquisitely  sensitive  to  the  feelings  of 
shame  and  honour.  The  most  savage  and  unfeeling 
among  the  barbarian  tribes  were  far  from  being  the 
most  courageous.  A  man  trained  on  the  Lacedemo- 
nian system  in  bodily  exercises  alone,  destitute  even 
of  the  most  indisi)ensable  mental  culture,  was  a  real 
/8avauo-o9,  useful  only  for  one  branch  of  political  duty, 
and  even  for  that  less  \iscful  than  if  he  had  been  dif- 
ferently trained.^ 

Modern  experience  in  i)u])lic  scliouls  curiously  re- 
produces that  of  Greece  more  than  two  thousand  years 
ago.  For  the  moincnt  llic  ty]K'  of  scliool-boy  and  of 
manhood  most  in  favour  with  tlie  British  pidilic  is 
Spartan  rather  than  Athenian  ;  but  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Arnold,  faithful  to  the  teaching  of  his  own 
, master,  would  have  sought  to  resist  the  i)revailing 
fashion,  and  to  confine  athletic  sjiorls  within  narrower 
limits. 

The  truth  is  that  the  Arnoldian  tradition  which  has 
become  slowly  evolved  and  has  lixi-d  itself  in  the 
minds  of  most  Kii-lish  jH-oplc.  is  basi'd  iii..i-(>  upon  Mr. 
Thomas  lliii^hcs"  romance,  tlian  upon  the  actual  life 
as  set  forth  in  Stanley's  volumes.  Tom  Ih-i>iri,'s 
/School  DiujH  is  a  manly  aiul  spirited  book,  and  is 
pervaded  throughout  with  a  sense  of  humour,  a  sym- 
I  Sec  Groto'.s  Aristotle,  i>.  514. 


TOM   BKOWN'S   SCHOOL  DAYS  105 

pathy  with  boyhood,  and  a  love  of  righteousness  and 
truth.  The  story  is  well  and  vigorously  told,  and 
has  been  deservedly  admired.  But  as  Matthew  Ar- 
nold once  said  to  me,  it  has  been  praised  quite 
enough,  for  it  gives  only  one  side,  and  that  not  the  1 
best  side,  of  Rugby  school  life,  or  of  Arnold's  character,  j 
It  leaves  out  of  view,  almost  Avholly,  the  intellectual  I 
purpose  of  a  school.  It  gives  the  reader  the  impres- 
sion that  it  is  the  chief  business  of  a  public  school  to 
produce  a  healthy  animal,  to  supply  him  with  pleasant 
companions  and  faithful  friends,  to  foster  in  him 
courage  and  truthfulness,  and  for  the  rest  t(j  teach  as 
much  as  the  regulations  of  the  school  enforce,  Ijut  noi 
more.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  Hughes'  own  boyhood! 
was  not  spent  with  the  best  set  at  llugby.  There  werei 
in  his  time  Lake,  C.  J.  Vaughan,  Arthur  Stanley,! 
Bradley,  Lushington,  the  two  Walronds,  JVIatthew  and  i 
Thomas  Arnold,  but  of  these,  and  of  the  intense  in-  > 
tellectual  strain  in  the  sixth  form  and  the  upper 
schoolhouse  set,  and  of  the  aims  by  which  tliey  Avere 
inspired,  Hughes  appeared  to  have  little  or  no  know- 
ledge. His  typical  school-boy  is  seen  delighting  in  wan- 
ton mischief,  in  sport,  in  a  fight,  and  even  in  a  theft 
from  a  farm-yard,  distinguished  frequently  by  inso- 
lence to  inferiors,  and  even  by  coarseness  and  brutal- 
ity, but  not  by  love  of  work  or  by  any  strong  interest 
in  intellectual  pursuits.  It  is  after  all  a  one-sided  and 
very  imperfect  view  of  ethical  discipline,  which  while  it 
seeks  to  make  a  boy  sensitive  on  the  point  of  honour, 
refusing  to  "blab"  or  tell  tales  of  a  schoolfellow,  is 
yet  tolerant  of  "  cribs  "  and  ''  vulguses  "  and  other  de- 


106  THOMAS   AUNOLD 

vices    by    wliicli    masters    could    he    liuudwinked    or 
deceived. 

This  picture  of  a  itul)lic  school,  in  s]»ite  of  its  attrac- 
tive features  and  of  its  un(|uestiouable  power  and 
reality,  will  probably  be  quoted  in  future  years  as 
illustrating  the  low  standard  of  civilization,  the  false 
ideal  of  manliness,  and  the  deep-seated  indifference 
to  learning  for  its  own  sake  which  characterized  the 
upper  classes  of  our  youtli  in  the  early  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  In  short,  the  book  will  be  held 
to  explain  and  justify  the  famous  epithet  of  '*  bar- 
barians "  wliich  Matthew  Arnold  was  wont  to  apply- 
to  the  English  aristocracy  and  to  that  section  of 
society  wliich  was  most  nearly  influenced  by  the 
great  public  schools. 
/  At    the    Universities    it   soon   became    noticeable, 

not  only  that  Kugby  won  an  increasing  number  of 
'  academic  triumphs,  but  that  the  Rugbeians  were 
•^characterized  by  a  certain  gravity  and  by  a  deeper 
seriousness  of  purpose  in  life  than  were  to  be 
found  among  ordinary  public-school  boys.  They 
were  not  on  that  account  very  popular.  The  as- 
sociations wliicli  surround  ordinary  undergraduates, 
and  the  talk  to  wliich  they  listen,  and  the  homes 
from  which  they  come,  are  not  specially  calculated  to 
encourage  moral  thoughtfulness  and  introspection; 
.and,  to  say  the  truth,  young  people  -who  are  prema- 
Turely  distinguished  by  these  qualities  are  apt  to  be 
regarded  as  "prigs."  Nothing  exasperates  the  aver- 
age man  more  than  the  airs  of  a  superior  person,  and 
it  may  be  readily  admitted  that  there  was  in  Arnold's 


A   TEMPLE   OF   INDUSTRIOUS   PEACE  107 

intense  earnestness  and  intellectual  aspiration  some 
tendency  to  beget  among  his  elder  pupils  self-con- 
sciousness and  a  too  pronounced  scorn  for  what 
satisfies  commonplace  people.  But,  after  all,  this 
danger,  though  a  real  one,  is  not  that  from  which 
English  society  and  English  boyhood  are  likely  to 
suffer  much.  Most  of  the  faults  and  shortcomings  of 
the  British  "barbarian"  lie  in  the  opposite  direction. 
And  an  infusion  into  our  social  system  of  a  few  men 
with  high  and  even  impossible  ideals,  and  with  too 
much  earnestness,  may  well  be  borne  by  John  Bull 
without  much  complaining  or  loss. 

It  may  be  said  generally  that  Arnold's  conception  of 
a  school  was  that  it  should  be  first  of  all  a  place  for 
the  formation  of  character,  and  next  a  place  for  learn- 
ing and  study,  as  a  means  for  the  attainment  of  this 
higher  end.  Discipline  and  guidance  were  in  his 
view  still  more  prominently  the  business  of  a  school- 
master than  the  impartation  of  knowledge.  The 
motives  he  sought  to  develop  and  strengthen  were 
the  love  of  righteousness,  the  admiration  of  valour, 
genius,  and  patriotism,  the  sense  of  duty  to  others 
and  the  scorn  of  what  was  little,  untruthful,  mean, 
or  base  in  daily  action.  But  the  main  condition  on 
which  the  incidental  attainment  of  this  object  was 
possible  was  that  the  community  should  be  aw  fond 
pervaded  with  the  spirit  of  work,  and  that  the  proper 
business  of  a  good  school,  the  production  of  exact 
and  accomplished  scholars,  should  be  thoroughly  well 
fulfilled.'  Thomas  Carlyle,  who  stayed  a  week  at 
Rugby,    characterized    the    school    as   a   "temple    of 


108  THOMAS   AKNOLI) 

industrious  peace."  This  would  liardly  be  an  accu- 
rate description  of  a  naodern  public  school  in  which 
boat  races  and  football  matches  are  the  prominent 
topics  of  discussion  and  furnish  the  chief  fields  of 
ambition. 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  of  Arnold's  succes- 
sors in  the  head-mastership  of  Rugby,  Dr.  Percival, 
now  the  Lord  liishop  of  Hereford,  in  writing  to  me 
has  thus  summarized  his  estimate  of  Arnold's  school 
work  and  personal  influence : 

'^  If  I  were  called  upon  to  express  in  a  sentence  or 
two  my  feeling  in  regard  to  Dr.  Arnold's  influence  on 
school  life,  I  should  describe  him  as  a  great  prophet 
among  schoolmasters,  rather  than  an  instructor  or 
educator  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term.  Some 
are  appointed  to  be  prophets,  and  some  pastors  and 
teachers,  and  he  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  great- 
est in  the  first  of  these  classes.  I  remember  asking 
Dean  Stanley  if  Arnold  taught  them  a  great  deal  in 
the  sixth  form  in  the  course  of  his  lessons,  and  in 
reply  to  my  question  the  Dean  held  up  a  little  note- 
liodk  wliich  he  hajjpened  to  have  in  his  hand  at  tlie 
moment,  and  said,  *  I  could  put  everytliing  that  Ar- 
nold ever  taught  me  in  the  way  of  instruction  into 
this  little  book.' 

"Thus  it  miglit  fairly  be  said  of  him,  as  was  said  of 
a  famous  Oxford  leader  the  other  day,  that  his  influ- 
ence was  stimulative  rather  than  formative,  the  secret 
of  his  i)ower  consisting  not  so  much  in  the  novelty  of 
his  ideas  or  methods,  as  in  his  conunanding  and  mag- 
netic i)ersonality,  and   llie   intensity  and  earnestness 


ARNOLD   A   rROPIIET  109 

1 

with  which  he  impressed  his  views,  and  made  them  —  \ 
as  a  prophet  makes  his  message  —  a  part  of  the  living 
forces  of  the  time. 

"  The  dominating  idea  of  his  Kiigby  life  was  that  a 
head  master  is  called  of  God  to  make  his  school  a 
Christian  school,  an  idea  which  has  no  doubt  been  en- 
throned in  the  hearts  of  multitudes  of  other  school- 
masters, both  before  and  since;  but  he  was  destined 
to  make  it  a  new  power  in  the  world  through  the 
intensity  with  which  he  nursed  it  as  a  prophetic  in- 
spiration, and  preached  it  in  all  his  words  and  works 
with  a  prophetic  fervour.  This  idea  pervades  not  only 
his  chapel  sermons,  but  all  the  activities  of  his  life. 
In  his  lessons,  his  study  of  history,  his  discipline,  his 
exhortations  addressed  to  the  sixth  form,  and  to  the 
whole  school,  and  his  dealings  with  individual  boys, 
he  is  felt  to  l)e  always  striving  to  infuse  into  the  com- " 
moil  life  his  own  enthusiasm  of  Christian  earnestness, 
and  to  stimulate  the  growth  of  pul)lic  spirit,  moral 
thoughtfulness,  and  what  we  sum  up  as  Christian 
character. 

"  Such,  I  take  it,  is  the  best  part  of  the  inheritance 
we  owe  to  him,  as  it  is  the  food  and  sustenance  of  all 
our  highest  hopes  for  the  future  of  English  schools." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Arnold's  extra-scholastic  interests— "Why  such  interests  are  neces- 
sary for  a  teacher  — Foreign  travel  —  Extracts  from  diary  — 
Love  of  Nature  — Intercourse  with  the  poor  needed  hy  himself 
and  by  his  pupils  — University  settlements  and  mission  work 
in  connexion  with  public  schools  — Politics  —  The  Reform  Bill  — 
The  Englishman'. s  lierjister  —  The  society  for  the  diffusion  of 
useful  knowledge  —  Mechanics'  Institutes  —  The  London  Uni- 
versity—Arnold's attitude  towards  each  of  these  enterprises 

It  is  impossible  for  readers  to  understand  tlie  true 
significance  of  a  life  or  to  estimate  the  value  of  a 
man's  work  without  taking  into  account  tlie  pursuits 
and  tastes  which  have  lain  outside  of  his  professional 
duties.  It  is  a  familiar  truism  that  we  come  into 
the  world  not  only  to  get  a  living  but  to  live;  and 
that  the  life  we  live  depends  as  mucli  upon  the  tastes 
we  form,  the  number  and  variety  of  the  interests 
which  appeal  to  us,  as  upon  the  manner  in  wltich  our 
definite  and  ostensible  work  is  done.  A  life  wholly 
devoted  to  professional  duty  is  necessarily  an  incom- 
plete life.  Tliat  duty  can  only  be  seen  in  its  true 
proportions,  can,  in  fact,  only  be  properly  discharged 
at  all  when  its  relation  to  the  larger  interests  which 
lie  outside  of  it  is  clearly  perceived.  This  is  true  of 
all  human  employments.  But  it  is  especially  true  in 
regard  to  the  otlice  of  a  teacher.  There  is  an  inevi- 
talde  (doseiiess  in  ilic  iiitcllccttial  atinospluTe  (tf  a 
11(1 


EXTRA-SCIIOLASTIC    INTERESTS  111 

schoolroom,  and  the  best  teachers  are  precisely  those 
who  are  most  conscious  of  the  need  of  some  sphere  of 
activity  beyond  its  walls.  Nothing  serves  so  well  to 
keep  the  life  of  a  schoolmaster  sweet  and  wholesome 
as  a  love  for  some  study  or  employment  which  he 
pursues  for  its  own  sake,  and  which  has  no  immedi- 
ate and  visible  relation  to  the  routine  of  teaching  or  to 
the  passing  of  examinations.  Pedantry  and  donnish- 
ness, the  characteristic  faults  of  the  teacher's  calling, 
are  wont  to  be  encouraged  by  the  constant  exercise  of 
authority  in  a  little  world  composed  entirely  of  his  in- 
tellectual inferiors,  by  the  habitual  use  of  the  impera- 
tive mood,  and  by  an  exclusive,  albeit  conscientious, 
absorption  in  scholastic  functions.  We  all  need,  if 
we  would  see  our  work  in  true  perspective,  a  vivid 
sonse  of  the  richness  and  spaciousness  of  the  world 
outside  and  some  contact  with  its  greater  interests, 
especially  those  which  touch  most  nearly  the  border- 
land of  our  own  profession  and  home.  And  we  can 
never  understand  Arnold's  educational  work  unless 
we  enquire  liovv  he  employed  his  leisure,  and  what 
were  his  relations  to  the  larger  world  of  thought  and 
action,  of  which,  after  all,  a  school  is  only  a  part. 

Arnold  was  very  conscious  of  the  limitations  which 
his  profession  imposed,  and  of  the  danger  of  sinking 
to  the  rank  of  a  mere  dominie.  And  he  found  the 
needful  expansion  in  more  directions  than  one.  For- 
eign travel  was  to  him  one  of  the  most  effective  and 
the  most  delightful  expedients  for  correcting  the  ten- 
dency to  professional  narrowness  and  pedantry.  He 
felt  refreshed  and  invigorated  by  it. 


XTNIVER-TT^^ 


112  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

"I  am  come  out  alone,  my  dearest,"  he  says  in  one  of  his 
home  letters,  "  to  see  the  morning  sun  on  JMont  Blanc,  and  the 
lake,  and  to  look,  I  trust,  with  more  tiian  outward  eyes  on 
this  glorious  scene.  It  is  overpowering  like  all  intense  beauty, 
if  you  dwell  on  it,  but  I  contrast  it  immediately  with  our 
Rugby  horizon  and  my  life  of  duty  there,  and  our  cloudy  sky 
of  England,  clouded  alas  !  socially,  for  more  than  physically.  | 
.  .  .  And  if,  as  I  trust  it  will,  this  rambling  and  this  beauty 
of  nature  in  foreign  lands  shall  have  strengthened  me  fur  my 
work  in  England,  then  we  may  both  rejoice  tiiat  we  have  had 
this  little  parting." 

It  is  noticeable  that  there  is  little  or  no  evidence 
in  his  letters  or  journals  of  any  interest  in  what  is 
generally  called  "art."  Tliere  are  no  raptures  about 
the  great  painters.  He  doubtless  visited  the  Uffizi 
gallery  at  Florence,  the  Accademia  at  Venice,  and 
the  galleries  of  the  Vatican,  but  none  of  them  moved 
or  inspired  him  much,  and  he  says  little  or  nothing 
about  their  treasures.  Nor,  except  once  at  Pisa,  did 
the  architecture  of  the  great  Italian  cathedrals,  the 
music,  the  solemn  procession,  or  the  mere  i)ictu- 
resqueness  of  the  ceremonial  of  the  IJoman  (diundi, 
win  from  liini  citlitT  admiration  or  criticisin.  "  I 
care  little  for  the  siglit  of  the  churches,  and  nothing 
at  all  for  tlic  rfc<dh'ctioii  of  them.  St.  John  Lateran 
is  the  finest  of  them,  and  the  form  of  the  Greek  cross 
at  St.  Maria  degli  Angeli  is  much  better  for  these 
buildings  than  that  of  the  Latin.  But  precious  mar- 
bles and  gilding  and  rich  colouring  are  to  me  like  tha 
kaleidoscope  and  no  more,  and  these  churches  are\ 
almost  as  inferior  to  ours,  in  my  judgnuMit,  as  their^ 
\vorshi|i   is  to  ours." 


LOVE   OF   NATURE  lia 

So  it  may  be  said  with  some  truth,  that  he  was 
deficient  in  aesthetic  sensibility  so  far  as  the  fine  arts 
were  concerned.  But  he  had  a  keen  and  loving  eye 
for  the  beauties  of  Nature,  and  his  letters  are  filled 
with  passages  showing  minute  observation  of  the 
scenery  through  which  he  passed,  and  testifying  also 
to  the  delight  with  which  such  experience  filled  his 
heart.  Tliough  his  tastes  were  not  materially  influ- 
enced by  poetry,  and  although  imaginative  literature 
generally  had  little  charm  for  him,  he  had  caught 
much  of  the  Wordsworthian  spirit.  It  was  not 
merely  as  a  picture  that  the  loveliness  of  the  out- 
ward world  of  hill  and  valley,  of  rock  and  cataract, 
of  gloom  and  sunshine,  appealed  most  to  him.  He 
was,  like  Wordsworth, 

"  —  well  pleased  to  recognize 
In  Nature  and  the  language  of  tlie  sense 
The  anchor  of  my  purer  thoughts,  the  nurse, 
The  guide  and  guardian  of  my  heart,  and  soul 
Of  all  my  moral  being." 

And  his  sense  of  the  richness  and  glory  of  the 
visible  world  was  keenest  when  h6  could  associate 
them  with  the  doings  and  the  character  of  the  people 
who  lived  on  it.  It  was  as  an  arena  for  human 
activity  that  Europe  and  its  physical  characteristics 
seemed  to  him  best  Avorth  studying,  and  the  influence 
of  natural  scenery  on  history,  industry,  and  national 
welfare  filled  a  larger  space  in  his  thoughts  than  the 
gratification  of  aesthetic  sensibility.  As  an  example 
of  the  accuracy  of  his  observation,  this  passage  from 
one  of  his  letters  may  be  fitly  cited: 
I 


114 


TII()^^AS    ARNOLD 


"  We  crossed  the  Tihor  a  little  beyond  Peruicia,  where  it 
was  a  most  miserable  ditch  witii  hardly  water  enough  to  turn 
a  mdl ;  indeed,  most  of  the  streams  which  flow  from  the 
Apennines  were  altogether  dried  uj),  and  the  dry  an<l  thirsty 
appearance  of  everything  was  truly  oriental.      The  flowers 
were  a  great  delight  to  me,  and  it  was  very  beautiful  to  see 
the  hedges  full  of  the  pomegranate  in  full  flower,  the  bright 
scarlet  blossom  is  so  excee.lingly  ornamental,  to  say  nothing 
|«f  one's  associations  with  the  fruit.     What  we  call  the  Sp-Til^- 
ish  broom  of  our  ganlens  is  the  common  wild  broom  of  the 
Apennines,  but  I  do  not  think  it  is  so  beautiful  as  our  own. 
The  fig  trees  were  most  luxuriant,  but  not  more  so  than  in 
the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  I  got  tired  of  the  contimial  occurrence 
of  fruit  trees,  chiefly  olives,  instead  of  large  forest  trees.     The 
vale  of  Florence  looks  quite  pale  and  dull  in  comparison  of 
our  rich  valleys,  from  the  total  want  of  timber,  and  in  Flor- 
ence itself  there  is  not  a  tree.     How  miserably  inferior  to 
Oxford  is  Florence  altogether,  both  within,  and  as  seen  from  a 
distance;  in  ^hort,  I  never  was  so  disappointed  in  any  place 
m  my  life.  '  My  favourite  towns  were  Genoa,   Milan,  and 
Verona.     The  situation  of  the  latter,  just  at  the  foot  of  the 
Alps,  and  almost  encircled,  like  Durham,  by  a  full  and  rapiil 
river,  the  Adige,  wa.s  veiy  delightful."  > 

As  an  illustration  of  the  alacrity  with  which  he 
•seized  on  any  link  between  the  present  and  the  past, 
and  turned  from  the  observation  of  the  material  sur- 
roundings and  people  to  the  consideration  of  their 
history  and  character,  this  extract  may  be  quoted 
from  the  diary  (1S28)  in  which  he  describes  his  first 
view  of  the  Khine  and  of  Cologne. 

"  We  burst  upon  the  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  the 
city  of  Cologne  with  all  its  towers,  the  Rhine  itself  distinctly 


THE   RECREATIONS   OF   LIFE  115 

seen  at  the  distance  of  seven  miles,  tlie  Seven  Mountains 
above  Bonn  on  our  right,  and  a  boundless  sweep  of  the 
country  beyond  tlie  Rhine  in  front  of  us.  To  be  sure,  it 
was  a  striking  contrast  to  the  first  view^  of  the  valley  of  the 
Tiber  from  the  Mountains  of  Viterbo  ;  but  the  Rhino  in 
mighty  recollections  will  vie  with  anything,  and  this  spot 
was  particularly  striking.  Cologne  was  Agrippa's  colony 
inhabited  by  Germans,  brought  from  beyond  the  river,  to 
live  as  the  subjects  of  Rome ;  the  river  itself  was  the  fron- 
tier of  the  Empire,  —  the  limit  as  it  were  of  two  worlds, 
that  of  Roman  laws  and  customs,  and  that  of  German.  For 
before  us  lay  the  land  of  our  Saxon  and  Teutonic  forefathers, 
the  land  uucorrupted  by  Roman  or  any  other  mixture,  the 
birthplace  of  the  most  moral  races  of  men  that  the  world 
has  yet  seen,  of  the  soundest  laws,  the  least  violent  passion?, 
and  the  fairest  domestic  and  civil  virtues.  I  thought  of 
that  memorable  defeat  of  Varus  and  his  three  legions,  which 
for  ever  confined  the  Romans  to  the  western  side  of  the 
Rhine,  and  preserved  the  Teutonic  nation  —  the  regenerating 
element  in  modern  Europe  —  safe  and  free." 

But  it  was  not  merely  to  physical  exercise  and  to 
acquaintance  Avitli  foreign  lands  that  he  turned  for 
the  needful  refreshment  and  solace,  and  for  the  means 
of  enlarging  the  sphere  of  his  own  interests  beyond 
the  Avails  of  the  schoolroom.  Even  wlien  at  Laleham, 
he  felt  the  need  of  distraction  of  another  kind.  Xot 
only  enjoyment,  but  fresh  and  different  duty,  seemed 
to  him  needful  to  restore  the  balance  of  life,  and  to 
save  him  from  the  fate  of  becoming  a  mere  pedagogue. 
And  one  of  the  duties  which  he  found  most  helpful 
for  this  purpose  was  that  of  making  himself  more 
closely  acquainted  with  the  condition  and  the  feelings 
of  the  poor.     He  said  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Tucker : 


116  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

"I  care  not  a  straw  for  the  labour  of  the  half  year;  for  it 
is  not  labour  but  vexation  which  hurts  a  man,  and  I  find  my 
comfort  depends  more  and  more  on  tlie  pupils'  good  and  bad 
conduct.  They  arc  an  awful  charge,  but  still  to  me  a  very 
interesting  one,  and  one  which  I  couhl  cheerfully  jjursue  till 
my  health  or  faculties  fail  me.  Moreover,  I  have  now  taken 
up  the  care  of  the  Workliouse,  i.e.  as  for  as  going  there  once 
a  week  to  read  prayers  and  give  a  sort  of  lecture  upon  some 
part  of  the  Bible.  I  wanted  to  sec  more  of  the  poor  peo- 
ple, and  I  found  tliat  uidcss  I  devoted  a  regular  time  to  it  I 
should  never  do  it,  for  the  hunger  for  exercise,  on  the  part  of 
myself  and  my  horse,  used  to  send  me  out  riding  as  soon  as 
my  work  was  done.  Whereas  now  I  give  u])  Timrsday  to 
the  village,  and  it  will  be  my  own  fault  if  it  does  not  do  me 
more  good  than  the  exercise  would."  ^ 

The  belief  that  the  life  of  a  scholar  might  easily 
become  too  isolated  and  selfish  a  life,  that  a  know- 
ledge of  the  needs  and  feelings  of  the  poor  and  of 
the  unprivileged  classes  was  a  valuable  part  of  educa- 
tion, and  that  the  i)Ossession  of  intellectual  advantages 
carried  with  it  the  obligation  to  do  something  for 
those  Avho  did  jiot  possess  them,  became  stronger  as 
experience  brought  him  more  into  contact  with  the 
sons  of  rich  men  and  made  him  more  familiar  with 
the  peculiar  temptations  of  their  life.  The  memory 
of  the  wholesome  tonic  influence  which  had  become 
so  valuable  to  himself,  when  visiting  the  workhouse 
at  Laleham,  remained  with  him  through  life.  In  the 
course  of  two  remarkable  sermons,  XXII.  and  XXII I . . 
on  a  single  episode  in  our  Lord's  life,  his  eating  and 
drinking  with  a  mixed  company  and  in  the  house  of 

1  Lottor  XII. 


FAMILY   AFFECTIONS  117 

Levi  the  publican,  lie  took  occasion  to  warn  young 
men  against  the  dangers  of  sellisli  isolation,  either  in 
the  scholar's  life  or  in  the  life  of  what  is  called 
"society," — the  comj)anionship  of  those  of  one's  own 
station  and  of  pursuits  akin  to  one's  own.  Speaking 
of  Christ's  example  and  the  kind  of  intercourse  with 
our  fellow-creatures  which  is  calculated  to  do  us  most 
good,  he  said: 

"  We  dare  not  in  this  case  trust  ourselves  in  the  society 
of  publicans  and  sinners,  we  should  not  do  good  to  them, 
but  they  would  rather  infect  us  with  their  own  evil.  But 
the  natural  remedy  for  our  peculiar  dangers,  the  way  in 
which  we  can  best  mix  with  our  brethren  for  the  nourish- 
ment of  our  atfectious,  is  to  be  found  in  tlie  intercourse  with 
our  own  families  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  the  poor  on  the 
other." 

On  the  former  of  these  points,  the  necessity  of  cul- 
tivating to  the  fullest  the  family  affections,  he  always 
spoke  with  peculiar  emphasis.  Singularly  blessed  as 
he  was  with  a  happy  home,  accustomed  to  do  much 
of  his  literary  work  in  the  room  in  which  wife  and 
children  Avere  around  him,  and  deriving  strength  and 
inspiration  from  their  presence,  the  boys  could  never 
fail  to  see  how  the  domestic  life  Avas  the  centre  round 
which  all  his  thoughts  clustered.  The  picture  de- 
scribed by  a  pupil  of  the  fireside  at  Laleham  may  re- 
mind us  of  the  story  of  Melanchthon,  who  Avas  found 
by  the  Pope's  legate  intently  studying  his  Greek 
Testament  held  in  one  hand,  while  he  rocked  the 
cradle  Avith  the  other.  And  it  is  A'ery  characteristic 
of  the  extent  to  Avhich  he  himself  Avas  sensitive  to 


118  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

the  sweet  ami  gracious  influences  of  home,  that  lie 
took  occasion  to  object  even  to  the  apparently  inno- 
cent and  useful  institution  of  reading  parties  for  the 
long  vacation  as  being  not  without  its  drawbacks. 

"  I  cannot  but  think  that  a  most  evil  habit  has  of  late 
years  grown  up  amongst  young  men  when  engaged  in  read- 
ing—  that  of  going  away  from  their  homes  and  fixing  them- 
selves, for  three  or  four  months,  in  some  remote  part  of  the 
countiy,  where  they  might  study  without  interruption.  It 
may  be  that  more  is  thus  read  than  would  be  read  at  home, 
though  scarcely  more  than  might  be ;  but  even  supposing  it 
to  be  so,  it  is  a  dangerous  price  that  is  paid  for  it.  The 
simple  quiet  of  a  connnon  fixmily  circle,  the  innumerable 
occasions  of  kindness  that  it  affords,  and  its  strong  tendency 
to  draw  away  our  thoughts  from  self  and  to  awaken  our 
affections  for  othci's,  —  a  discipline  precious  at  every  perio<l 
of  life,  — can  then  least  of  all  be  spared  when  the  hardnes.>^cs 
of  the  world  are  just  coming  upon  us,  when  our  stuilies  and 
even  our  animal  spirits  are  all  combining  to  make  us  selfish 
and  proud." 

On  the  second  point  —  the  need  of  keeping  open  the 
sympathies  and  of  redressing  wliatever  of  evil  is  in  the 
life  of  the  wealthy,  by  friendly  and  j'et  unpatronizing 
intercourse  with  the  poor  —  he  was  wont  to  be  yet  more 
emphatic.  At  Rugby,  as  at  Laleham,  he  had  put 
himself,  so  far  as  oi»portunity  served,  into  connnuiii- 
(!ation  witli  working  men  and  women,  and  had  derivi'd 
great  benefit  from  the  experience. 

"  Another  way  of  mixing  with  our  brethren  in  a  maimer 
most  especially  jdeasiiig  to  t^nist  and  useful  to  others,  is  by 
holding  frequent  intercourse  with  the  poor.  Perhaps  to 
young    men   of   tlie   richer   da.sses    there   is   nothing   whidi 


INTERCOURSE    WITH   THE    POOR  119 

makes  their  fre(iucnt  residence  in  large  towns  so  mischievous 
to  them  as  the  difficulties  which  they  find  in  the  way  of  such 
intercourse.  In  the  country,  many  a  young  man  knows 
something  at  least  of  his  poorer  neighbours  ;  but  in  towns, 
the  numbers  of  the  poor,  and  the  absence  of  any  special 
connexion  between  him  and  any  of  them  in  particular,  hin- 
ders him  too  often  from  knowing  anything  of-  them  at  all, 
—  an  evil  which  is  as  much  to  be  regretted  on  the  one  side 
as  on  the  other,  and  which  is  quite  as  mischievous  to  the 
minds  and  tempers  of  the  rich  as  it  is  to  the  bodily  condition 
of  the  poor.  I  can  hardly  imagine  anything  more  useful  to 
a  young  man  of  an  active  and  powerful  mind,  advancing 
rapidly  in  knowledge  and  with  high  distinction  either  actu- 
ally obtained  or  close  in  prospect,  than  to  take  him  —  or,  \ 
much  better,  that  he  should  go  of  liimself — to  the  abodes 
of  poverty,  of  sickness,  and  old  age.  Everything  there  is  a 
lesson ;  in  everything  Christ  speaks,  and  the  spirit  of  Christ  i 
is  ready  to  convey  to  his  heart  all  that  he  witnesses.  Accus-  | 
tomed  to  all  the  comforts  of  life,  and  hardly  ever  thinking 
what  it  would  be  to  want  them,  he  sees  poverty  in  all  its 
evils,  —  scanty  room,  and  too  often  scanty  fuel,  scanty  cloth- 
ing, and  scanty  food.  Instead  of  the  quietness  and  neatness 
of  his  own  chamber,  he  finds  very  often  a  noise  and  a  confu- 
sion which  would  render  deep  thouglit  impossible  ;  instead 
of  the  stores  of  knowledge  with  which  his  own  study  is  filled, 
he  finds  perhaps  only  a  prayer-book  and  a  Bible.  ...  He 
will  see  old  age  and  sickness  and  labour  borne  not  only  with 
patience,  but  with  thankfulness,  through  the  aid  of  that 
Bible  and  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit  who  is  its  author. 
He  will  find  that  while  his  language  and  studies  would  be 
utterly  unintelligible  to  the  ears  of  tliose  whom  he  is  visiting, 
yet  that  thei/  in  their  turn  have  a  language  and  feelings  to 
which  he  is  no  less  a  stranger.  ...  It  would,  indeed,  be  a 
blessed  thing,  and  would  make  this  place  really  a  seminary 
of  true  religion  and  useful  learning,  if  those  among  us  who 
are  of  more  thoughtful  years,  and  especially  those  of  us  who 


120  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

arc  likely  to  become  iiiiiiistors  of  Christ  hereafter,  woiiM 
remember  that  tlieir  Cliristian  education  has  commenced 
already,  and  that  he  cannot  learn  in  Christ's  school  who 
does  not  acquaint  himself  something  with  tlie  poor.  Two 
or  three  at  first,  five  or  six  afterwards,  a  very  small  number, 
might  begin  a  practice,  which  under  proper  regulations  and 
guided  by  Christian  prudence,  as  well  as  actuated  by  Chris- 
tian love,  would  be  eipially  beneficial  to  the  poor  and  to 
yourselves."  ^ 

We  have  in  these  sermons  an  indication  that  to 
learn  to  be  of  service  to  others  was  a  great  part  of 
his  own  education,  and  that  it  should  also  be  set 
forth  before  the  young,  as  an  indispensable  part  of 
theirs.  The  belief  that  the  well-born  and  the  pros- 
perous have  as  much  to  learn  from  intercourse  with 
the  poor,  as  the  poor  could  possibly  learn  in  return, 
was  founded  on  liis  own  experience  and  was  imparted, 
as  occasion  served,  to  his  elder  boys.  This  belief  has 
since  his  time  found  expression  in  many  ways.  The 
University  Settlements  in  the  South  and  East  of 
London,  Toynbee  Hall,  the  efforts  of  Eton,  ]\[arl- 
borough,  and  other  public  schools  to  maintain  dif- 
ferent forms  of  missionary  and  social  enterprise  in 
the  poorer  suburbs  of  London,  are,  though  of  later 
^ate,  all  in  their  way  legitimate  products  of  Arnold's 
influence,  of  the  spirit  which  he  sought  to  infuse  into 
school  and  University  life,  the  onthusiasm  of  human- 
ity, the  struggle  against  selfishness  and  narrowness, 
and  the  belief  that  a  good  education,  like  all  other 
privileges,  implies  a  corresponding  obligation  towards 

1  Sciinoii  XXlll. 


POLITICAL   UNREST   OF   THE   TIME  121 

those  who  care  without  it.^  By  Wcay  of  further  anti- 
dote to  the  narrowing  influence  of  his  professional 
duties,  Stanley  notices  Arnold's  Lectures  to  Me- 
chanics' Institutes  at  Kugby  and  Lutterworth,  liis 
fre<|uent  sermons  to  village  congregations,  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  dispensary,  his  tracts  of  advice  on  the 
appearance  of  the  cholera;  and,  at  the  time  of  the 
construction  of  the  railway,  his  exertions  to  procure 
the  sanction  of  the  Bishop  to  the  performance  of  short 
services  for  the  labourers  employed  on  it,  to  be  con- 
ducted by  himself  and  his  assistant  masters  in  turn. 

There  were  circumstances  in  the  political  and  social 
life  of  the  kingdom  at  the  time  which  were  well  cal- 
culated to  occasion  grave  anxiety,  and  to  stimulate 
an  ardent  reformer  like  Arnold  with  a  desire  to  take 
a  part  in  public  life.  The  period  of  the  Reform  Bill 
happened  to  coincide  with  the  prevalence  of  much 
distress  and  industrial  unrest.  The  resolute  resist- 
ance of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  the  Tory  party 
to  the  enactment  of  that  measure  embittered  the 
temper  of  the  unenfranchised  classes;  and  the  in- 
creasing use  of  steam  mechanism,  both  for  manufact- 
ures and  for  locomotion,  caused  a  dislocation  in  our 
industrial  system,  closed  up  some  of  the  avenues  to 
employment,  and  excited  considerable  alarm  among 
the  working  classes.  Arnold  took  the  keenest  inter- 
est in  the  angry  and,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  somewhat 
perilous  conflicts  of  the  time.  He  believed  that  the 
social  dangers  which  threatened  the  nation  could  only 
be  averted  by  the  exercise  of  more  sympathy  on  the 
part  of  the  ruling  classes,  and  more  intelligence  on 


122  TIKtMAS   ARNOLD 

the  part  of  the  iiih'd.  So  he  determined  to  venture 
on  a  new  periodical,  the  Englishmcui's  Register,  which 
lived  a  brief  life,  from  May  to  July,  1831. 

"I  want,"  he  said,  "to  get  up  a  real  Poor  Man's  Maga- 
zine, which  should  not  bolster  up  abuses  and  veil  initiuities, 
nor  prose  to  tlie  poor  as  to  cliildren,  but  should  address  them 
in  the  style  of  Cobbett,  plainly,  bohlly,  and  in  sincerity,  ex- 
cusing nothing,  concealing  notliing,  and  misrepresenting  noth- 
ing, but  speaking  the  very  whole  truth  in  lovc."^ 

It  is  very  characteristic  of  him  that  he  jdunged 
into  this  chivalrous  enter}»rise  before  lie  had  well 
assured  himself  of  probable  support  from  friends  and 
sympathizers,  and  before  he  had  adequately  estimated 
the  serious  pecuniary  obligations  which  it  entailed. 

"Our  hope  is,"  he  said,  in  his  introductoiy  article,  "to 
rally  those,  and  we  believe  there  are  many  who  feel  in  these 
tremendous  times  as  we  do,  who  are  disgusted  alike  with  the 
folly  and  iniquity  that  would  keep  all  things  as  they  are, 
and  with  the  no  less  foolish  and  unprincipled  violence  which 
would  destroy  rather  than  reform,  and  which  pollutes  even 
reform  itself  by  its  unchristian  spirit  and  resentments." 

Accordingly,  he  contributed  to  the  paper  some  vigor- 
ous articles  in  favour  of  the  reform  of  the  representa- 
tive system,  and  interspersed  them  with  other  articles 
on  the  labouring  classes,  and  Avith  a  series  of  exposi- 
tory articles  on  the  book  of  Genesis,  and  ou  the 
lessons  which  might  be  derived  from  it  in  relation 
to  the  right  economy  and  use  of  life.  After  the 
discontinuance  of  the  Register  he  contributed  to  the 

1  Letter  XXVL 


HIS   POLITICAL   WRITINGS  123 

Sheffield  Coiirant  a  succession  of  letters  on  the  social 
condition  of  the  operative  classes,  which  dealt  with 
such  to})ics  as  labour,  Avages,  poverty,  education,  and 
reform  in  a  manner  wliich  is  no  less  remarkable  for 
the  sympathy  with  which  he  viewed  the  condition,  the 
needs,  and  the  aspirations  of  the  poor,  than  for 
the  earnestness  with  which  he  warned  them  against 
indulging  in  illusions.  He  told  the  working  classes 
frankly  tliat  tliey  must  not  expect  too  much  from 
parliamentaiy  reform,  and  he  refuted  the  doctrine 
that  Avar  was  good  because  it  furnished  employment 
and  made  trade  brisk.  He  Avould  not  liave  Avorking 
men  suppose  that  any  nostrum  or  political  arrange- 
ment could  ever  save  them  from  the  responsibility  of 
qualifying  themselves  by  their  own  industry  and 
intelligence  for  a  larger  sliare  of  the  comfort  and 
social  advantages  of  life.  Home  of  his  articles  in  the 
defunct  Register  and  in  the  Sheffield  Corirant  Avere 
republished  by  Stanley  in  a  supplementary  volume 
of  Miscellaneous  Works.  They  may  still  be  read 
Avith  interest  by  any  one  Avho  desires  to  study  the 
economic  history  as  Avell  as  the  temper  of  the  times. 
For  example,  he  dAvelt  on  the  natural  tendency  of 
wealth  to  become  richer  and  poverty  poorer.  The 
effect  of  Avealth,  he  said,  was  to  make  men  more 
alive  to  iutellcctua.!  jdeasures  and  more  able  to  pro- 
cure them,  Avhihi  poverty  renders  the  same  pleasures 
at  once  undesired  and  unattainable.  In  this  Avay  the 
two  classes  of  our  community  have  been  removed 
from  one  another  by  a  greater  distance,  and  have 
become   strangers,    if   not   enemies.     The    excess    of 


124  THOMAS   ARNOr.I) 

aristocracy  in  our  wliole  system  —  religious,  political, 
and  social  —  had  led  to  au  enormous  evil,  though  it 
was  hard  to  say  that  any  one  was  to  blame  for  it. 
The  rich  and  poor  have  each  a  distinct  language, 
the  language  of  the  rich  being  that  of  books,  and 
being  full  of  French  words  derived  from  Roman 
ancestors,  while  that  of  the  poor  retained  its  Anglo- 
Saxon  character. 

"Our  business,"  he  said,  "is  to  raise  all  and  lower  none. 
E(iuality  is  the  dream  of  a  niathnan,  or  the  pas.sion  of  a  fiend. 
Extreme  inequality,  or  high  comfort  and  civiHzation  in  some, 
coexisting  witli  deep  misery  and  degradation  in  others,  is  no 
less  also  a  folly  and  a  sin.  But  an  equality  in  whicli  some 
have  all  the  enjoyments  of  civilized  life,  and  none  are  with- 
out its  comforts,  where  some  have  all  tlie  treasures  of  know- 
ledge, and  none  are  sunk  in  ignorance,  —  that  is  a  social 
system  in  harmony  with  the  order  of  (lod's  creation  in  the 
natural  world.'" 

Tliere  were  other  ]»ublic  movements  whicli  wore 
not  political  and  were  of  a  more  hopeful  kind.  Lord 
Brougham,  whose  reforming  zeal  made  him  many 
enemies,  and  whose  restless  and  versatile  energy 
alienated  many  who  were  disposed  to  sympathize 
Avith  his  nicnsurcs,  liad,  as  early  as  1S1(),  distin- 
guisluul  liiniscdf  in  Parlianiciit  by  setting  on  foot  the 
first  enquiry  into  the  "aJjuscs  of  the  public  charitable 
foundations  connected  witli  education,"  and  had  also 
initiated  another  emjuiry  into  tlie  state  of  ediication 
in  the  metropolis.  Failing,  after  repeated  efforts,  to 
arouse  Parliament  to  any  strong  interest  in  tlie  sub- 

1  ,S/icjHi'l(l  Coiiraiil,  is;i'_'.     l.ctlfi-  II. 


SOCIETY  FOR  THE  DIFFUSION  OF  KNOWLEDGE    125 

ject,  lie,  in  1825,  allied  himself  with  Eomilly,  Lord 
John  Eussell,  W.  Tooke,  Jaiues  Mill,  Henry  Hallam, 
M.  D.  Hill,  Sir  Charles  Bell,  Bishop  jNIaltby  of  Durham, 
AVilliam  Allen,  and  other  prominent  Whigs,  in  the 
establishment  of  a  voluntary  Society  for  the  Diffusion 
of  Useful  Knowledge.  In  1S2S  the  society  was  able 
to  congratulate  its  supporters  on  the  success  "  which 
had  attended  its  efforts  to  make  the  most  useful  and 
the  most  exalted  truths  of  science  easily  and  gener- 
ally accessible."  In  that  year  Charles  Knight  became 
the  recognized  publisher,  and  up  to  the  year  1846, 
when  the  society  came  to  an  end,  a  succession  of 
treatises  and  tracts  appeared  which  undoubtedly  had 
a  most  stimulating  effect  on  the  intellectual  life  of 
the  working  classes,  and  especially  on  the  class  im- 
mediately above  them.  Very  eminent  writers  were 
engaged.  Brougham  himself  contributed  the  opening 
treatise  on  the  "objects,  advantages,  and  pleasures  of 
science."  Dr.  Lardner,  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  Pro- 
fessor Maiden,  were  among  the  other  contributors. 
The  Library  of  Useful  Knowledge,  the  Penny  Cyclo- 
pwdia,  which  appeared  at  lirst  in  penny  weekly 
numbers,  the  Library  of  Entertaining  I^noioledge, 
and  the  Penny  Magazine,  which  was  the  pioneer  of 
man}'  periodicals  of  mingled  instruction  and  en- 
tertainment, were  all  new  experiments  in  popular 
literature,  and  were  welcomed  by  many  good  men  as 
enterprises  of  high  value  and  far-reaching  influence. 

A  kindred  effort,  mainly  helped  forward  by  the 
same  persons,  was  the  establishment  by  Dr.  Birkbeck, 
in  1820,  of  the  first  Mechanics'  Institution  in  London. 


126  THOMAS   A K NOLI) 

The  example  was  widely  followed  in  the  provincial 
towns.  Classes,  reading  rooms,  and  libraries  were 
provided,  courses  of  lectures  on  science  were  ar- 
ranged, and  great  efforts  were  made  to  popularize 
knowledge  and  to  attract  working  men  to  the  Insti- 
tutes. Under  different  names  —  Literary  Institutes, 
Polytechnics,  Evening  Continuation  Classes  —  the 
Mechanics'  Institute  survives  in  full  and  beneticial 
activity  to  our  own  day ;  but  it  should  not  be  forgotten 
that  the  first  serious  attempt  in  England  to  provide  in 
the  evening  for  those  wlio  had  been  laboriously  engaged 
during  the  day,  means  and  appliances  for  intellectual 
culture  was  made  by  IJrougham,  liirkbeck,  and  the 
promoters  of  the  "Diffusion    Society." 

A  still  more  ambitious  enterprise  was  the  founda- 
tion, in  1828,  of  an  institution  intended  to  serve  as 
a  University  for  London.  At  tliat  time  religious 
tests  were  enforced  at  the  older  LTniversities  prac- 
tically excluding  from  the  benefits  of  those  founda- 
tions all  who  felt  unable  or  unwilling  to  sign 
the  thirty-nine  articles.  The  expense  of  living  at 
Oxford  or  Cambridge  placed  their  advantages  out  of 
the  reach  of  many  poor  students;  and  before  the 
creation  of  railways,  even  tlu^  distance  of  tliese 
centres  of  learning  IVoin  tin'  metro])olis  was  felt  to 
be  a  disiul vantage.  In  llicsc  ciriMinistaiU't's  Tliomas 
Campbell,  tlir  poet,  liad  pul.lishfd,  in  1S2~>,  a  letter 
addressed  to  Ijoid  r.i-ou.i^hani.  earnestly  advocating 
the  establishment  in  London  of  a  great  University  for 
"teaching,  examining,  exercising,  and  rewarding  witli 
liononrs   in  the  liberal  arts  and  sciences  the  youth  ol' 


THE   LONDON   UNIVEUSITY 

ovir  middling  rich  people,"  —  a  University  combining 
the  advantages  of  public  and  private  education,  the 
emulative  spirit  produced  "by  examination  before 
numbers,  and  by  honours  conferred  before  the  pub- 
lic, the  cheapness  of  domestic  residence,  and  all  the 
moral  influences  that  result  from  home."  Shares 
representing  £160,000  were  taken  up,  and  in  1827 
the  foundation  of  the  new  building  in  Gower  Street 
was  laid  by  the  king's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Sussex. 
For  a  time  that  institution,  though  it  failed  to  obtain 
power  from  the  Crown  to  confer  degrees,  was  known 
as  the  London  University,  and  it  was  not  until  1836, 
after  King's  College  had  been  founded,  that  the  long 
negotiations  with  the  Government  were  terminated 
by  an  arrangement  which  conferred  upon  each  of  those 
Colleges  a  charter  recognizing  it  as  a  teaching  body; 
and  at  the  same  time  incorporated  by  Charter  a  third 
body,  to  be  called  the  "University  of  London,"  with 
power  to  examine  candidates  from  those  and  other 
affiliated  colleges,  and  to  confer  academic  degrees  in 
any  branch  of  learning  or  science  except  theology. 

In  all  these  enterprises  Arnold  had  the  keenest 
interest.  They  seemed  to  him  to  be  full  of  promise 
for  the  intellectual  emancipation  and  improvement  of 
the  whole  English  people,  and  he  threw  himself  into 
them  with  characteristic  vehemence  and  enthusiasm. 
He  was  in  full  sympathy  with  the  objects  Avhich  the 
promoters  of  the  Diffusion  Society,  the  Mechanics' 
Institutes,  and  the  London  Universit}^  had  in  view, 
but  he  was  not  without  grave  misgivings  about  the 
methods  they  adopted.     He  could  not  withhold  sym- 


128  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

patliy  from  the  educational  rcronuevs,  although  what 
Sir  Gr.  Trevelyau  has  somewhat  happily  called  brough- 
am's "slovenly  omniscience"  caused  that  sympathy 
to  be  imperfect.  The  arid  and  limited  conception  of 
"Useful  Knowledge,"  knowledge  sought  because  of 
its  visible  relation  to  practical  uses,  could  not  be 
expected  to  satisfy  him.  The  publications  of  the 
"  Diffusion  "  Society  dealt  mainly  with  scientific  facts 
and  interesting  information,  and  left  almost  wliolly 
out  of  view  the  culture  of  the  imagination  and  tlie 
taste.  There  was  a  singular  absence  from  the  So- 
ciety's programme  of  the  humaner  studies,  literature, 
art,  logic,  ethics,  poetry,  and  })hilosopliy.  lUit  these 
defects,  though  serious,  were  in  liis  view  not  tlie 
worst.  There  was,  In;  thouglit,  an  indifference  to 
religion  characterizing  tlie  publirations  of  the  Society, 
and  tliis  cliilhul  and  disheartened  him  juost.  It  was 
one  of  his  deepest  convictions,  that  wliile  the  educa- 
ion  of  an  Englishman  need  not  be  sectarian,  it  should 
be  essentially  Christian.  "The  slightest  touch  of 
Christian  princijde  and  Christian  liope,  in  the  Soci- 
ety's Ijiographical  and  liistDrical  artich's,"  lie  said  in 
one  of  his  letters,  "would  be  a  sort  of  living  salt  to 
the  whole."  And  in  another  letter  he  described  the 
sort  of  literature  wliieli  he  should  like  to  furnish  to 
th(i  working  men  of  England  as  "Cobbett-like  in 
style,  but  Christian  in  spirit."  "I  lu'ver  wanted 
articles  on  religious  subjects  half  so  nnu-h  as  artich>s 
on  coiniiion  subjects  written  with  a  decidedly  Chris- 
tian tone."  And  his  enthusiasm  in  favour  of  direct- 
ing   tlu'si!    new   ami    itroniisiii'j'    anciicics    for   mental 


THE   PENNY   MAGAZINE  129 

improvement  into  a  course  wliicli  should  recognize 
the  moral  and  spiritual  needs  of  the  nation,  took  a 
very  practical  shape  when,  in  Avriting  to  one  of  the 
ofl&cers  of  the  Diffusion  Society,  he  said : 

"I  am  convinced  that  if  the  Penny  Magazine  were  decid- 
edly and  avowedly  Christian,  many  of  the  clergy  throughout 
the  kingdom  would  be  most  delighted  to  assist  its  circulation 
by  every  means  in  their  power.  For  myself,  I  should  think 
that  I  could  not  do  too  much  to  contribute  to  the  support  of 
what  would  then  be  so  great  a  national  blessing,  and  I  should 
beg  to  be  allowed  to  offer  fifty  pounds  annually  towards  it  so 
long  as  my  remaining  in  my  present  situation  enabled  me  to 
gratify  my  inclinations  to  that  extent." 

The  offer  was  not  accepted.  It  is  difficult,  indeed, 
to  conceive  how  an  arrangement,  such  as  Arnold 
desired,  could  be  formulated  and  rendered  permanent 
without  raising  in  the  Society  many  formidable  theo- 
logical difficulties.  To  Arnold  himself,  who  saw  his 
way  clearly  to  the  preparation  of  articles  which  would 
fulfil  liis  own  ideal,  the  difficulties  seemed  to  be 
trifling.  The  Committee  of  the  Society,  however, 
formed  a  truer  estimate  of  the  public  interpretation 
which  would  be  put  on  his  plan,  and  determined  to 
adhere  resolutely  to  the  course  they  had  from  the 
first  adopted.  They  resolved  to  make  intellectual 
improvement  and  useful  knowledge  their  main  busi- 
ness, leaving  to  other  agencies  all  discussions  on 
disputable  theology  and  on  morals  and  religion. 
Their  activity  in  publication  did  not  slacken,  but 
they  worked  under  limitations  which,  even  to  Arnold, 
appeared  to  be  harmful,   and  which  caused  a  large 


130  THOMAS    AUNOLI) 

number  of  the  ministers  of  religion  to  regard  the 
Society  with  scant  sympatliy  and  some  suspicion  to 
the  last.  The  Saturday  Magazine,  which  was  pub- 
lished by  the  Society  for  promoting  Christian  Know- 
ledge, was  considered  by  many  as  the  rival,  and  by 
others  as  the  antidote  to  tlie  Penny  Magazine,  and 
secured  a  large  circulation.  Arnold  said  to  a  member 
of  that  Society : 

"I  have  had  some  correspondence  with  the  Useful  Know- 
ledge people  about  their  Penvy  Mayazine,  and  have  sent  thi-ni 
some  things  which  I  am  waiting  to  see  if  they  will  publish  : 
but  of  course  what  I  have  been  doing,  and  may  do,  for  tht-ni 
does  not  hinder  me  from  doing  what  I  can  for  you.  I  only 
suspect  that  I  sliould  want  to  liberalize  your  magazine,  as  I 
wish  to  Christianize  theirs,  and  probably  your  Committee 
would  recalcitrate  against  any  such  operation,  as  theirs  may 
do.  The  Christian  Knowledge  Society  has  a  bad  name  for 
the  dulness  of  its  publications,  and  their  contributions  to  the 
cause  of  general  knowledge,  and  enlightening  the  people  in 
earnest,  may  seem  a  little  tardy  and  reluctant." ' 

The  Useful  Knowledge  Society  came  to  an  end  in 
1846.  It  was  an  honourable  and  undoubtedly  suc- 
cessful effort  to  promote  the  better  educatiou  of  the 
people,  and  tlie  influence  of  its  })ublications  long  sur- 
vived its  own  death.  If  its  promoters  ])roved  to  be 
too  saiiguiiH'.  if  bitcv  experience  showed  that  they 
made  an  innrcuratc  estimate  Ixith  of  the  appetite  of 
ilie  working  man  for  iiitelli'et  iial  nut  riiiieiit  ami  •>!' 
the  eharaeier  of  the  iiutrinient.  to  be  i>rovi(led,  the  par- 
tial  failure  of  t.lie  enler|prise   is  nowise  to  their  ilis- 

1  l.ciior  XI.IV. 


MECHANICS'    INSTITUTES  131 

credit.  At  least  it  blocked  up  one  of  the  roads  to 
future  failure,  and  did  much  to  make  later  educa- 
tional progress  possible.  Biit  Arnold's  interest  in 
the  larger  work  of  Dr.  Birkbeck  was  not  diminished 
by  this  partial  failure.  His  lecture  on  the  divisions 
and  mutual  relation  of  knowledge,  delivered  before 
the  jNlechanics'  Institute  at  liugby,  shows  at  the  same 
time  his  sympathy  with  the  promoters  of  such  insti- 
tutions and  his  desire  to  improve  the  ideal  of  "useful 
knowledge  "  which  was  to  a  large  extent  presented  to 
the  Avorking  classes  in  the  lectures  to  which  they 
were  accustomed.  He  expressed  an  earnest  wish  to 
encourage  Mechanics'  Institutes  on  account  of  the 
good  that  they  can  do,  and  at  the  same  time  lie 
deemed  it  important  to  call  attention  to  their  neces- 
sary imperfections  and  to  notice  the  good  Avliich  they 
cannot  do.  There  is  in  this  lecture  little  or  no  refer- 
ence to  the  merely  material  or  commercial  value  of 
knowledge,  but  an  attempt  to  enlarge  his  hearers' 
conception  of  the  worth  of  mental  cultivation  as  a 
means  of  enriching  life  and  adding  to  its  power  and 
usefulness.  Hence  he  dwells  much  on  the  need  of 
such  studies  as  philosophy,  languages,  and  logic,  as 
helping  to  foster  a  love  of  truth7  and  to  qualify  the 
student  to  think  more  soundly  and  accurately  about 
any  of  the  subjects  in  which  he  might  become  inter- 
ested, especially  those  which  concerned  most  nearly 
the  duties  of  the  citizen  and  the  formation  of  riglit 
opinions  about  the  past  and  the  future. 

In  1836,  he  Avas  invited  to  a  seat  on  the  Senate  of 
the  newly  constituted  University  of  London,  and  he 


132  THOMAS    AlJNOLl) 

accepted  the  i)Ost  witli  much  ;ihicrity,  believing  that 
here  was  a  new  opportunity  for  usefulness  and  a 
promising  instrument  for  extending  the  blessings  of 
a  liberal  education  to  many  persons  who  had  liitherto 
been  excluded  froiu  academic  privileges.  One  of  thu 
first  proposals  wliich  lie  submitted  to  the  Senate  was 
to  the  effect  that  an  ac(puiintance  with  some  part  of 
the  New  Testament  in  the  original  should  be  required 
of  every  candidate  for  a  degree  in  Arts.  For  degrees 
in  Law  and  Medicine  he  was  not  disposed  to  insist  on 
this  condition.  But  a  degree  in  Arts,  he  contendetl, 
ought  to  certify  that  the  holder  had  received  a  com- 
plete and  liberal  education;  and  a  liberal  education 
without  the  Scriptures  must,  in  any  Christian  coun- 
try, be  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Of  theoretic  diffi- 
culties in  the  conduct  of  the  examination  he  made 
very  light. 

"I  am  perfectly  ready,"  he  said,  "to  examine  tomorrow 
in  any  Unitarian  Scliool  in  England,  in  presence  of  parents 
and  masters.  I  will  not  put  a  question  that  shall  offend, 
yet  I  will  give  such  an  examination  sus  will  bring  out,  or 
prove  the  absence  of,  Christian  knowledge  of  tlie  higliest 
value.  I  speak  as  one  who  has  been  used  to  examine  young 
men  in  tlie  Scriptures  for  nearly  twenty  years,  and  I  pknlge 
myself  to  the  perfect  easiness  of  doing  this.  Our  e.xamina- 
tions,  in  fact,  will  carry  tlieir  own  security  with  them  if  our 
characters  will  not,  and  we  should  not  and  could  not  venture 
to  pro.selytize  even  if  we  wished  it.  But  this  very  circum- 
stance of  our  having  joined  the  London  University  at  the 
risk  of  nnidi  odium  from  a  large  i)art  of  our  profession  would 
be  a  warrant  for  our  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  Cliarter 
with  perfect  sincerity.'"' 

1  Leltui-  U.  IJislu.i.  Utter,  Cl.Xlil. 


SCRIPTURE   AT   THE    UNIVERSITY   OF   LONDON    133 

These  views,  however,  were  not  accepted  by  his 
colleagues  on  the  Senate,  many  of  whom  saw  with 
greater  clearness  than  he  how  difficult  it  would  be  to 
secure  a  succession  of  Arnolds  as  Scripture  examiners, 
and  how  many  promising  and  conscientious  students 
might  possibly  be  excluded  from  the  University,  if 
the  religious  examination  were  insisted  on. 

Accordingly,  his  proposal  that  every  candidate  for 
the  degree  of  B.A.  should  be  required  to  take  up  one 
of  the  Gospels  or  Epistles  at  his  discretion  was  re- 
jected. But  in  deference  to  his  judgment  and  that  of 
the  minority  who  sympathized  with  him^_a_vpluntary 
or  supplementary  examination  was  instituted  in  the 
Hebrew  Text  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  Greek  Text 
of  the  New  Testament,  and  Scripture  History  and  Evi- 
dences, and  special  prizes  and  certificates  were  offered 
to  successful  candidates.  The  regulations  for  tliis 
examination  are  still  in  force  in  tlie  scheme  of  tlie 
London  University  and  are  an  interesting  survival 
testifying  to  Arnold's  influence.  But  the  annual 
number  of  candidates  is  small,  and  the  certificates  in 
this  department  of  knowledge  do  not  count  in  any 
way  towards  the  attainment  of  a  degree.  Though 
keenly  regretting  that  the  principle  for  which  he  had 
contended  did  not  obtain  the  approval  of  the  Senate, 
Arnold  yet  continued  for  a  time  to  serve  as  a  member 
of  that  body,  partly  because  he  did  not  Avish  to  cen- 
sure even  by  implication  those  BisJiops  and  clergy 
who  still  felt  it  their  duty  to  remain,  and  partly  in 
the  hope  of  making  the  Scriptural  examination  as 
attractive  and   effective  as  possible,   and  perhaps  of 


134  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

SO  regulating  its  conditions  that  tlie  Arts  degree 
would  be  generally  understood  to  be  incomplete  with- 
out it.  Wlieu  it  afterwards  became  evident  that 
neither  the  authorities  of  the  affiliated  Colleges,  nor 
those  of  the  University  itself,  shared  his  belief  in  the 
necessity  of  such  an  examination,  or  were  disposed 
to  regard  it  in  any  other  light  than  as  a  purely  volun- 
tary exercise,  he'  abandoned  the  contest,  and  in  a 
sorrowful  and  dignified  letter  addressed  to  tlie  ('han- 
cellor  at  the  end  of  1838,  he  finally  resigned  all  con- 
nexion with  the  University. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Oxford  movement  —  The  Hampden  controversy  —  Arnold's 
relation  to  the  movement  — His  views  as  to  the  condition  of  the 
Church  of  England  and  of  necessary  reforms — Dean  Church's 
estimate  of  Arnold's  ecclesiastical  position  —  The  Broad  Church 
—  Influence  of  outside  interests  on  the  life  of  the  schoolmaster  — 
The  ideal  teacher— Regius  Professorship  of  Modern  History  — 
Arnold's  scheme  of  lectures  —  Its  partial  fulfilment  — His  early 
death  —  Conjectures  as  to  what  might  have  been  had  he  lived  — 
Mr.  Forster  and  the  Education  Act  —  Testimonies  of  Dean  Boyle 
and  of  the  Times 

It  will  easily  be  gathered  from  the  foregoing  pages 
that  Arnold  was  likely  to  feel  profoundly  interested 
in  the  remarkable  religious  revival,  which  under  the 
name  of  the  Oxford  movement  made  the  fourth  decade 
of  this  century  so  memorable  in  the  history  of  the 
English  Church.  Indeed,  any  estimate  of  his  charac- 
ter and  career  would  be  incomplete  which  did  not 
include  some  reference  to  his  share  in  that  movement. 
Some  of  his  old  associates  of  the  Oriel  set,  including 
Keble,  Hurrell,  Froude,  Pusey,  Rose,  Newman,  and 
others,  were  led  by  the  study  of  Church  History  and 
by  a  profound  distrust  of  the  current  theology  of  the 
day,  to  assume  a  new  position  and  to  be  recognized 
as  par  excellence  the  Anglican  party  in  the  English 
church.  In  1827  Keble  published  his  Christian  Year, 
a  volume  of  which  Pusey  afterwards  said,  that  "it 
was  the  unknown  dawn  and  harbinger  of  the  reawak- 
ening of  deeper  truth."  In  1S33,  Newman  began  the 
135 


136  THOMAS    AIJNOLI) 

publication  of  Tracts  for  the  Times,  with  the  avowed 
object  of  Avithstauding  the  liberalism  of  the  day,  and 
of  finding  a  basis  for  the  English  church  in  Catho- 
lic antiquity,  and  strengthening  the  sacerdotal  and 
sacramental  elements  in  her  teaching.'  In  1835, 
Pusey  started  the  Library  of  the  Fathers.  The 
series  of  Tracts  came  to  an  end  in  1841  with  the  pub- 
lication of  Tract  90,  which  w^as  a  laboured  argument 
to  prove  that  the  articles  of  the  Church  of  England 
admitted  of  a  Catliolic  interpretation.  This  tract  was 
censured  by  Bishops  and  by  the  Heads  of  Houses  at 
Oxford,  and  Avas  received  with  such  a  storm  of  in- 
dignation that  the  publication  of  the  Tracts  proceeded 
no  further.  The  subsequent  submission  of  Newman 
to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  181.')  was  the  catas- 
trophe of  the  movement. 

The  story  of  this  movement  has  been  tnld  with 
singular  candour,  clearness,  and  dignity,  and  with 
touching  pathos  by  John  Henry  Xewman,  the  pro- 
tagonist of  the  drama,  in  his  Apologia  pro  vitd  si«'i ; 
and  from  another  point  of  view,  with  no  less  fair- 
ness and  scarcely  less  literary  charm,  in  Dean  Church's 
Oxford  Movement.  It  must  suffice  here  to  refer  to 
such  of  the  incidents  of  that  eventful  time  as 
specially  interested  Arnold  and  called  forth  his  com- 
bative instincts.  Dr.  R.  D.  Hampden,  Avho  was  public 
examiner  in  Oxford  in  1831-1832,  became  l>am])ton 
lecturer  in  the  following  year,  and  in  that  capacity 
preached  a  course  of  lectures  on  tlie  ''  Scholastic 
Philosophy  considered    in    its   relations  to  Christian 

1  Jpulo;/ia,  pii.  \'<0  aii.l  I'.tS. 


THE  HAMPDEN  CONTROVERSY       137 

Theology."  It  was  a  scholarly  though  not  very 
inspiriug  book;  it  traced  the  intiueuce  of  the  Alex- 
andrine divines  and  of  the  schoolmen  on  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Christian  Creeds,  and  would  in  our  days 
have  been  regarded  as  a  thoughtful  and  useful  contri- 
bution to  Church  History,  without  startling  any  one 
by  its  originality  or  daring  speculation.  But  by  the 
High  Church  and  Tory  party  in  Oxford  the  book 
was  then  regarded  as  dangerously  latitudinarian  in 
its  opinions,  chiefly  because  it  exhibited  with  re- 
morseless frankness  the  very  human  elements  which 
entered  into  the  composition  of  ancient  formularies, 
such  as  the  Nicene  and  Athanasian  Creeds,  and  so 
might  tend  to  deprive  them  of  that  divine  author- 
ity which  high  Anglicans  were  wont  to  claim  for 
them.  The  book  Avas  solemnly  condemned  by  the 
Heads  of  Houses  as  unorthodox  and  dangerous,  and 
when  Lord  Melbourne,  in  1836,  proposed  to  appoint 
Hampden  to  the  Regius  Professorship  of  Divinity,  a 
strong  and  acrimonious  opposition  to  the  appointment 
arose  in  Oxford.  )  The  Prime  Minister,  however,  per- 
sisted in  the  nomination,  and  the  only  practical  effect 
of  the  agitation  was  by  a  vote  in  Convocation  to 
exclude  the  Regius  Professor  from  his  place  at  a 
Board  whose  duty  it  was  to  nominate  University 
preachers.^ 

1  It  was  not  till  after  Arnold's  death  that  the  same  controversy 
was  revived  in  an  aggravated  form  by  the  nomination  in  1847,  of 
Hampden  to  the  bishopric  of  Hereford  —  a  nomination  which  Ix>rd 
John  Russell,  the  minister  of  the  day,' persisted  in,  notwithstanding 
remonstr.ances  from  the  clergy,  from  the  Deau  of  Hereford,  and 
from  thirteen  of  the  bishops. 


138  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  tliat  Arnold  could  keep 
silent  in  the  midst  of  this  ecclesiastical  ferment.  He 
was  "ever  a  fighter,"  and  in  regard  to  (|uestions  which 
touched  the  interests  of  religion  a  strong  and  even 
vehement  controversialist.  He  threw  himself  with 
characteristic  courage  and  energy  into  the  thickest  of 
the  fray.  Of  what  has  been  cynically  called  the 
"nasty  little  virtue  of  prudence,"  it  must  be  owned 
he  was  not  endowed  with  a  large  share.  He  wrote, 
in  1821),  a  pamphlet  strongly  urging  the  wisdom  and 
expediency  of  conceding  the  Catholic  claims.  He 
stayed  not  to  consider  whether  the  outspoken  utter- 
ance of  unpopular  opinion  would  injure  his  reputation 
with  the  governors  of  the  scliool;  and  as  we  have 
already  shown,  he  refused  with  courtesy,  but  with 
firmness,  a  request  from  one  of  the  liugby  trustees 
that  he  would  declare  whether  he  was  or  was  not  the 
author  of  an  anonymous  article  in  a  Review.  Free- 
dom to  speak  his  mind  on  burning  questions  was  a 
necessity  of  his  being,  and  he  would  readily  have 
resigned  his  mastership,  had  it  been  necessar}',  rather 
than  suri'i'mlcr  tliis  freedom.  Tliat  a  cause  was  for 
tlu!  moment  unpopular,  was  with  him  almost  apnwici 
facie  reason  for  espousing  it, 

Vidrix  causa  dils  placuit,  scd  ricta  Cutoni. 

His  famous  article  in  the  Edinburgh  He  view,  enti- 
tled the  "Oxford  Malignants,"  '  is  an  example  of  his 

1  These  were  the  five  memhcrs  of  a  small  oinnniittco  which  met 
in  the  common  room  iit  Corpus  to  draw  up  a  protest  asjainst  llamiv 
(leu's  appointment  as  Reftius  Professor,  on  tlie  j;round  tlmt  "  ho  had 
contradicted  the  doctrinal  truths  which  lie  was  pledned  to  nuiin- 
tain."     Eighty-one  members  of  the  University  signed  this  protest. 


RELIGIOUS   CONTROVERSY  139 

polemical  style  when  specially  roused  to  indignation  j 
and  his  knowledge  of  history  caused  him  to  feel  how 
impotent  was  the  attempt  to  j)revent  the  spread  of 
opinions,  whether  really  or  only  apparently  hetero- 
dox, by  means  of  ecclesiastical  censures. 

"He  wielded  a  pen,"  said  J.  B.  Mozley,  "as  if  it 
were  a  ferule."  The  violent  proceedings  of  the  New- 
manite  party  against  Hampden  were,  in  his  opinion, 
glaringly  unjust.  He  saw  in  the  privilegium  voted  by 
Convocation  nothing  but  Lynch  law.  He  saw  in  it 
a  reproduction  in  spirit  and  in  essence  of  the  non- 
jurors reviling  Burnet,  of  the  Council  of  Constance 
condemning  Huss,  of  the  Judaizers  banded  together 
against  Paul.^ 

As  one  reads  the  story  of  those  days,  he  is  reminded 
of  the  terms  in  which  iNIatthew  Arnold,  many  years 
afterwards,  apostrophized  Oxford  as  the  "home  of 
lost  causes  and  forsaken  beliefs,  and  unpopular 
names,  and  impossible  loj^alties."^  Father  and  son 
were  alike  in  loving  Oxford  dearly,  and  were  con- 
scious of  their  deep  and  lifelong  debt  to  it.  But  to 
both,  the  influence  of  the  High  Church  party  appeared 
profoundly  mischievous  to  the  true  interests  of  reli- 
gion and  to  the  welfare  and  full  development  of  the 
Church's  usefulness.  Indeed,  Arnold  almost  despaired 
of  the  Church  of  England,  although  he  believed  that 
it  ought  to  become  the  main  instrument  for  the  moral 
culture  of  the  nation  and  for  the  exaltation  of  right- 
eousness and   truth.      The   decorous   and   apologetic 

1  Edinburgh  Revieic,  January.  1845. 

2  Preface  to  M.  Aruold's  Essays  in  Criticism, 


140  THOMAS    A  UNO  LI) 

orthodoxy  of  the  eighteenth  ceutuiy,  the  negligence 
and  apathy  of  many  of  the  clergy,  and  their  isolation 
from  the  main  current  of  popular  interests,  repelled 
and  profoundly  saddened  him.  "Our  Church,"  he 
said,  "bears,  and  has  ever  borne,  the  marks  of  her 
birth.  The  child  of  royal  and  aristocratic  selfishness 
and  unprincipled  tyranny,  she  has  never  dared  to  speak 
boldly  to  the  great,  but  has  contented  herself  with 
lecturing  the  poor.  'I  will  speak  of  thy  testimonies 
even  before  kings,  and  will  not  be  ashamed,'  is  a  text 
of  which  the  Anglican  Church  as  a  national  institu- 
tion has  never  caught  the  spirit."  The  fact  tliat 
twenty-two  out  of  twenty-four  bishops  voted  in 
the  House  of  Lords  against  the  Reform  Bill  was 
well  calculated  to  arouse  the  sceva  indignatio  which, 
%vhen  occasion  arose,  was  so  easily  excited  in  him. 
Here  was  no  case  in  Avhich  the  religious  interests  of 
the  people  needed  to  be  safeguarded  by  the  spiritual 
peers.  But  the  incident  brought  into  strong  relief 
I  the  fatal  tendency  of  English  ecclesiastics  to  identify 
themselves  with  the  interests  of  tlie  ])rivileged  classes, 
and  seemed  to  Arnold  to  render  the  outlook  for  tlie 
future  more  dispiriting  than  ever. 

In  these  circumstances,  the  new  signs  of  life  and 
energy  which  the  leaders  of  the  Oxford  movement 
Avere  beginning  to  put  forth,  and  the  desire  of  tluit 
l)arty  to  emancipate  itself  from  political  tranunels, 
miglit  liave  been  expected  to  win  Arnold's  sym- 
pathy. But  in  liis  view  the  whole  of  that  movement 
was  vitiated  by  the  sacerdotal  pretensions  and  idaims 
of  some  of  the  clergy,  by  their  revival  of  some  medi;u- 


THE   CHURCH   OF   ENGLAND  141 

val  and  outworn  superstitions,  and  by  their  habit  of 
regarding  the  acceptance  of  dogmas  as  the  only  basis  of 
Christianity.  He  had  learned  from  Coleridge  a  larger 
conception  of  the  scope  and  office  of  a  Christian 
church,  whose  members  should  include  many  of  those 
now  called  dissenters,  and  whose  ministers  should 
form  a  clerisy  —  not  exclusively  teachers  of  theol- 
ogy, but  leaders  and  helpers  in  all  that  concerned 
the  intellectual  interests  and  the  social  life  of  the 
pe(>[ile,  in  Avise  philantliropy  and  in  practical  reli- 
gion.' Dean  Church  thus  defines  what  he  conceives 
to  have  been  Arnold's  position  at  the  time: 

"Dr.  Arnold's  view  of  the  Church  was  very  simple.  He 
divided  the  world  into  Christians  and  non-Christians.  Chris- 
tians were  all  who  professed  to  believe  in  Christ  as  a  divine 
person,  and  to  worship  him ;  and  the  brotherhood  —  the 
'  Societas  '  of  Christians  —  was  all  that  was  meant  by  the 
Church  in  the  New  Testament.  It  mattered  of  course  to 
the  conscience  of  each  Christian  what  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  believe,  but  to  no  one  else.  Church  organization 
was  according  to  circumstances  pjirtly  inevitable  or  expe- 
dient, partly  mischievous,  but  in  no  case  of  divine  authority. 
Teaching,  ministering  the  word,  was  a  thing  of  divine  ap- 
pointment, but  not  so  the  mode  of  exercising  it,  either  as  to 
persons,  forms,  or  methods.  Sacraments  there  were,  signs 
and  pledges  of  divine  love  and  help  in  every  action  of  life,  in 
every  sight  of  nature,  and  eminently  two  most  touching 
ones  recommended  to  Christians  by  the  Redeemer  himself; 
but  except  as  a  matter  of  mere  order,  one  man  might  deal 
with  them  as  lawfully  as  another."^ 

1  Coleridge's  Church  and  State. 

2  Dean  Church,  The  Oxford  Movement,  p.  G. 


142  THOMAS   AKNol.l) 

He  advocated  the  abolition  of  tests  in  tlie  Universi- 
ties, the  opening  of  the  church's  doors  to  the  admis- 
sion of  dissenters,  the  abandonment  of  the  practice 
of  translating  r>ishoi)S  from  one  diocese  to  another, 
the  equalization  of  incomes,  the  formation  of  new 
parishes,  and  the  revival  of  the  order  of  deacons. 
But  his  utterances  on  these  subjects  were  not  accept- 
able to  any  party  in  the  English  church,  and  it  pained 
and  distressed  him  to  find  how  many  enemies  lie 
naade.  One  of  those  parties  appeared  to  him  narrow, 
timid,  and  at  the  same  time  fanatical  in  their  Ribli- 
olatry  and  their  demands  for  evangelical  orthodoxy, 
and  another  to  be  putting  forth  personal  claims  to 
priestly  authority  which  he  regarded  as  wholly  alien 
to  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  At  any  rate,  he  received 
little  sympathy  from  either.  ''If  I  had  two  necks," 
he  said,  "I  should  have  a  good  chance  of  being  hanged 
by  both  sides."  His  unpopularity  Avas  shown  by  the 
refusal  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to  allow  him 
to  preach  the  sermon  at  Lambeth  on  the  consecration 
of  Stanley,  the  Bishop  of  Norwich.  His  attitude 
towards  the  reforming  party  in  the  Church  on  the 
one  hand,  and  to  the  older  orthodo.\y  on  the  other, 
reminds  one  of  that  of  Erasmus,  who  though  symi)a- 
thizing  Avith  Luther  in  his  dennnciati(m  of  negligence, 
corruption,  and  superstition,  was  unwilling  to  weaken 
the  Church  or  to  deny  her  primitive  teaching.  "  In- 
stead of  leading,"  Erasmus  sadly  complains,  '*  I  have 
stood  naked  and  unarmed  l)et\veen  the  javelins  of  two 
angry  foes." 

It  woiild  appear  t.liat  he  had    foniied   an   iilt-al   of  a 


RELATION   OF   CHURCH   TO   STATE  143 

Christian  state  organized  on  some  such  model  as  his 
own  school  at  Rugby,  with  a  cliief  magistrate,  ener- 
getic, God-fearing,  and  wise,  with  the  clergy  and 
aristocracy  a  sort  of  sixth  form,  exercising  large 
influence  in  the  repression  of  evil  and  encouragement 
of  good,  and  a  whole  community  not  necessarily 
holding  one  set  of  opinions,  but  willing  to  share  the 
same  worship  and  to  work  together  as  the  servants  of 
the  same  Divine  Master,  Neither  in  a  State  nor  in 
his  school  was  he  disposed  to  regard  uniformity  as 
the  test  of  excellence.  In  his  opinion  intellectual  i 
freedom,  and  diversity  in  creed  and  organization  were 
wholly  compatible  with  unity  of  Christian  purpose 
and  with  corporate  national  life. 

It  would  be  foreign  to  my  present  purpose  to  enter 
further  into  details  respecting  Arnold's  religious  life, 
and  his  strivings  against  what  seemed  to  him  the 
worldliness  of  the  Church  and  in  favour  of  wider 
Christian  comprehension.  "The  identity  of  the 
Christian  commonwealth  with  the  Christian  state 
Avas  tlie  vision  that  had  inspired  the  ecclesiastical 
polity  of  Hooker.  It  was  the  ruling  thought  of 
Selden's  grave  sense,  of  Burke's  high  political  phi- 
losophy, and  of  the  religious  philosophy  of  Cole- 
ridge." '  To  this  may  be  added  that  it  had  been  the 
dream  of  Chillingworth,  and  has  been,  in  different 
forms,  that  of  Arthur  Stanley,  of  Frederick  Maurice, 
of  Whateley,  of  Bunsen  and  of  Jowett,  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  the  late  Bishop  of  Massachusetts,  and  of 
many  another  large-souled  man  who  sought  to  make 
1  Life  of  Dean  Stanley,  Vol.  II.,  p.  176. 


\ 


144  THOMAS    AlJNnl.l) 

Christian  men  lay  aside  minor  differences  and  agree 
to  combine  together  in  religious  sympathy,  in  the 
advancement  of  righteousness,  and  in  strenuous 
Christian  work.  But  it  is  a  dream  which  has  never 
been  realized,  and,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  after  more 
than  half  a  century,  is  not  likely  to  be  realized. 
Arnold  believed  that  so  long  as  the  only  unity  the 
churches  can  understand  means  uniformity  of  belief 
and  opinion,  and  not  identity  in  moral  and  spiritual 
aim;  so  long  as  the  battle  of  the  sects  is  a  fight  for 
creeds  rather  than  a  war  against  sin  and  ignorance, 
unity  is  simply  impossible  in  any  country  in  which 
there  is  any  intellectual  life  at  all.  While  each  sec- 
tion of  the  Cliristian  community  attaches  more 
importance  to  the  dogmas  and  usages  by  which  that 
section  is  distinguished  from  the  rest,  than  to  the 
fundamental  aims  in  which  they  are  all  i)ractically 
agreed,  every  effort  to  secure  greater  comprehensive- 
ness in  the  Church  and  unity  in  Christendom  seems 
foredoomed  to  failure.  And  those  who  shared  his 
views  must  have  sorrowfully  admitted  that  in  this 
matter  Arnold  was  only  beating  the  air,  and  that  the 
problem  he  mused  over  and  vehemently  discussed  is, 
for  the  present  at  least,  insoluble.  Yet  something 
will  survive,  —  something  alwa3's  does  survive  from 
honest  striving  after  a  generous  and  noble,  even 
if  an  unattainable,  ideal.  When  much  that  is 
ephemeral  in  theological  controversy  is  forgotten, 
the  aspirations  of  those  who  have  sought  to  discover 
a  deeper  foundation  for  spiritual  unity  tlian  that 
of   ecclesiastical   creeds   anil   .systems    will   abide    as 


EXTRA-SCHOLASTIC    INTERESTS  145 

permanent  factors  in  the  history  of  religion.  To 
men  with  such  aspirations  it  is  a  relief  to  tnrn  from 
the  polemics  of  rival  schools,  from  the  Oxford  move- 
ment, from  Tract  Ninety,  from  discussions  about  the 
Hampden  controversy  or  the  Eastward  position,  to 
the  calm  and  gracious  utterances  of  one  who  said: 
"Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of  this  fold. 
Them  also  must  I  bring,  and  they  shall  hear  my  voice  • 
and  there  shall  be  one  flock  and  one  Shepherd." 

No  apology  is  needed,  even  in  a  book  mainly 
addressed  to  teachers,  for  dwelling  Avith  so  much 
detail  on  the  extra-scholastic  aspects  of  Arnold's  life. 
For  indeed,  the  influence  of  a  schoolmaster  is  largeh' 
conditioned  by  the  pursuits  and  tastes  which  charac- 
terize him  out  of  school,  and  by  the  nature  of  his 
outlook  into  the  life  on  which  his  pupils  are  about  to 
embark.  His  love  of  foreign  travel  served  to  illu- 
minate his  lessons,  to  increase  his  descriptive  power, 
and  to  help  boys  better  to  know  something  of  the 
world,  and  of  their  own  place  in  it.  His  historical 
imagination  enabled  him  to  arouse  their  sympathies 
for  the  great  men  of  old  and  their  aspirations  after 
the  nobler  kinds  of  fame  and  success.  His  insatiable 
thirst  for  knowledge  kept  his  mind  fresh  and  recep- 
tive, made  the  life  of  the  scholar  more  attractive  in 
the  eyes  of  the  boys,  and  prevented  him  from  losing 
touch  with  young  learners,  to  whom  all  knowledge 
was  new.  His  militant  political  liberalism,  though  not 
obtruded  in  school,  could  not  fail  to  leaven  a  commun- 
ity largely  composed  of  the  sons  of  rich  men,  and  it 
unconsciously  helped  them  to  become  aware  of  their 


146  TH'iMAS    AUXoLl) 

duties  to  the  unprivileged  classes,  especially  to  the 
poor  and  the  ignorant.  His  domestic  life,  in  a  sin- 
gularly happy  and  tranquil  home,  kept  his  affections 
pure  and  tender,  and  caused  him  to  bring  the  intui- 
tions of  a  parent  to  rectify  his  merely  professional 
knowledge  of  boys  and  their  capacities,  tlieir  needs, 
and  their  dangers.  Above  all,  the  profound  reli- 
giousness of  his  nature  and  his  solemn  sense  of  duty 
coloured  the  whole  of  his  acts  and  thouglits,  and  gave 
to  all  those  who  came  most  under  his  influence  an 
almost  premature  sense  of  the  seriousness  of  life  and 
of  the  responsibilities  of  Christian  manhood. 

Thus  his  life  reveals  to  us  the  manifold  and  varied 
nature  of  the  equipment  of  a  true  teacher.  Scholar- 
ship alone  is  but  a  j>art,  and  not  necessarily  the 
highest  part,  of  that  oqui[)inont.  Strong  will  and 
force  of  character  are  great  and  indeed  indispensa- 
ble endowments  for  a  head  master.  Physical  activ- 
ity and  abounding  hopefulness  are  not  less  needed. 
All  these  Arnold  possessed.  "I  suppose,"  he  once 
said,  "the  desirable  feeling  to  entertain  is  always 
to  expect  to  succeed,  and  never  to  tliink  you  have 
succeeded."  But  more  is  ncccssarv  to  make  the 
ideal  teacher.  He  needs  an  insight  into  chihl 
nature  and  into  the  ])roo('sses  by  whicli  truth  can 
be  communicated,  I'aitli  in  tlie  bdundh'ss  possibilities 
of  good  wliich  lie  even  in  the  nu)st  unpromising  and 
uninteresting  scholars,  a  deep  sym])athy  with  every 
form  of  j'^outhful  weakness  excejit  sin,  and  a  genuine 
enthusiasm  and  love  for  work.  The  best  tiMclier  in 
tlie  woidd  nnist  always  I'all  shoi't  in   some   resiiects  of 


PROFESSORSHIP   OF   MODERN   HISTORY         147 

this  ideal;  but  it  was  because  Arnold  ever  kept  it  in 
view,  and  strove  with  all  his  might  to  realize  it,  that 
his  name  will  long  remain  in  our  history  as  that  of  a 
great  schoolmaster,  who  ennobled  his  profession,  and 
fulfilled,  though  in  a  way  hardly  anticipated  by 
Hawkins,  the  remarkable  prophecy  tliat  he  "would 
transform  the  public  scliools  of  England. 

One  of  the  most  gratif^'ing  incidents  of  his  life  was 
his  appointment,  in  1842,  to  the  Eegius  Professorship 
of  Modern  History  at  Oxford.  The  compliment  thus 
paid  to  him  was  peculiarly  welcome.  It  was  an 
honourable  recognition  of  his  eminent  industry  and 
success  in  his  favourite  field  of  research;  it  renewed 
his  connexion  with  his  belov^ed  Oxford;  it  brought 
around  him  once  more  many  of  his  former  friends; 
and  it  served  to  soften,  if  not  to  obliterate,  the 
memories  of  some  personal  controversies.  A  con- 
temporary letter  of  E.  W.  Church,  afterwards  Dean 
of  St.  Paul's,  who  Avas  living  at  Oriel,  in  February, 
1842,  describes  vividly  the  impression  left  upon  a 
young  and  not  wholly  sympathetic  College  don  of 
that  period. 

"  The  great  lion  at  present  is  Arnold  and  his  lectures  which 
have  created  a  great  stir  in  the  exalted,  the  literary,  and  the 
fashionable  world  of  Oxford.  He  is  here  witli  his  whole 
family,  and  people  look  forward  to  his  lectures  in  the  tlieatre 
day  after  day,  as  they  might  to  a  play.  He  will  be  quite 
missed  when  he  goes.  Almost  every  Head  goes  with  his 
wife  and  daughters,  if  he  has  any,  and  so  powerful  is  Arnold's 
eloquence,  that  the  Master  of  Balliol  was,  on  one  occasion, 
quite  overcome,  and  foirly  went  —  not  quite  into  liysterics, 


A 


148  THOMAS   AKNOJJ) 

l)nt  into   tears  —  upon  wliich   tlic   Provost   remarkeil   at  a 
large  party,  that  he  supposed  it  was  tlie  gout." 

"  However,  they  arc  very  striking  lectures.  He  is  work- 
ing out  his  inaugural.  Everything  he  does,  he  does  with 
life  and  foree,  and  I  cannot  lielp  liking  his  manly  and  open 
way,  and  the  great  reality  which  he  throws  about  such 
things  as  description  of  country,  military  laws  and  opera- 
tions, and  such  like  low  concerns.  He  has  exercised  on  the 
whole  a  generous  forbearance  towards  us  and  let  us  off  with 
a  few  angular  points  about  Priestliood  and  the  Puritans  in 
one  lecture,  while  he  has  been  immensely  liberal  in  other 
ways,  and  I  sliould  tliink  not  to  the  taste  of  tlie  Capitular 
body,  e.g.  putting  with  all  his  might  the  magniticent  age 
and  intensely  interesting  contests  of  Innocent  III,  and  in 
allowing  any  one  to  believe,  without  any  suspicion  of  super- 
stition, a  very  great  many  of  Bede's  miracles  and  some  others 
besides."^ 

The  lectures  on  INIodeni  History,  fragmentary  and 
incomplete  as  they  are,  servi;  well  to  illustrate  the 
character  of  Arnold's  iniiul.  He  was,  as  it  has  been 
said,  an  "  insatiable  reader,  an  active  controversial- 
ist, in  whose  view  every  series  of  phenomena  natu- 
rally crystallized  into  a  theory."  The  province  of 
history,  the  characteristics  of  historical  style,  mili- 
tary ethics,  military  geography,  national  prejudices, 
religious  and  political  parties  in  England,  are  among 
the  topics  rather  glanced  at  than  discussed  in  these 
lectures. '^  His  first  intention  was  to  begin  with  the 
year  1400,  in  the  hope  of  doing  for  England  a  similar 
service  to  tliat  wliicli  (luizot  had  tlien  undertaken  to 

1  ^^v■.\\\  Clnncirs  /.//>■  mul  Letters,  p.  X\. 
'■i  F.ilhilntrijh  Review,  Januiiry,  184:5. 


LAST   LECTURES  — DEATH  149 

do  for  France.  He  meant  to  trace  the  change  of 
property  produced  by  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  the 
growth  of  the  English  aristocracy,  as  it  gradually 
superseded  in  power  the  aristocracy  of  purely  Xor- 
man  descent.  He  afterwards  abandoned  the  plan 
and  began  at  an  earlier  date.  The  statutes  required 
that  terminal  lectures  on  biography  should  be  given  in 
connexion  with  the  historical  courses,  and  this  was 
a  requirement  peculiarly  congenial  to  Arnold,  and  in 
conformity  with  his  own  method  of  instruction.  He 
had  always  held  that  tlie  Avay  to  vivify  history  and 
make  it  impressive  and  useful  was  to  connect  it  with 
the  lives  and  cliaracters  of  typical  men.  So  he 
j^lanned  a  series  of  discourses  on  Gregory  the  Great, 
Charlemagne,  Alfred,  Dante,  and  other  representative 
men  of  the  pre-Keformation  period.  But  these  vis- 
ions were  never  realized.  The  first  course  of  profes- 
sorial lectures  proved  to  be  his  last. 

The  end  came  suddenly.  On  the  morning  of  Sun- 
day, the  12th  of  June,  1842,  tlie  day  before  his 
forty-seventh  birthday,  he  succumbed  to  a  sharp 
attack  of  angina  pectoris,  the  disease  from  which  his 
father  had  died.  Of  the  shock  and  bewilderment 
which  this  event  caused  in  his  household,  and 
throughout  the  little  community  of  Rugby,  Dean 
Stanley's  pages  contain  a  touching  description,  which 
could  not  properly  be  simplified  or  shortened  or  re- 
produced here.  Of  those  Avliom  he  left  Ijehind  him, 
Jane,  the  eldest  daughter,  became  the  wife  of  Will- 
iam Edward  Forster,  afterwards  jM.R.  for  Bradford 
and  Vice-President  of  the  Committee  of  Council  on 


150  THOMAS   AUN(tLI) 

Education;  Mattliew  was  tlie  eldest  son;  Thomas, 
the  second  son,  became  a  Fellow  of  his  college  at 
Oxford,  and  has  devoted  himself  to  literary  and 
educational  work;  William  Delafield  Arnold  was  for 
a  time  director  of  public  instruction  in  the  Punjaub, 
and  died  on  his  way  homewards  in  1859;  and  Edward 
was  a  clergyman  and  inspector  of  schools.  In  the 
next  generation,  INIrs.  Humphry  Ward,  the  gifted 
daughter  of  Thomas,  and  the  author  of  Robert  Els- 
mere,  and  Mr.  H.  0.  Arnold  Forster,  M.P.  for  Belfast, 
the  son  of  W.  D.  Arnold,  have  in  different  ways 
achieved  honourable  reputation. 

Speculation  in  reference  to  what  Arnold's  future 
career  might  have  been  were  obviously  fruitless.  Not 
improbably  he  would  have  become  a  liberal  Bishop, 
and  it  may  be  conjectured  that  in  that  capacity  he 
might  have  grown  more  tolerant  of  extreme  opinions 
and  have  found  out  the  use  which  the  Church  may 
make  of  extreme  men.  But  it  is  hardly  to  be  be- 
lieved that  he  would  have  ever  been  reconciled  to  the 
developments  of  modern  ritualism.  Still  less  was  he 
likely  to  be  satisfied  with  the  sacerdotal  claims  of 
the  clergy,  or  with  the  belief  that  the  Anglicanism 
of  the  thirty-nine  articles  represented  the  final  stage 
in  the  development  of  the  Christian  chnrcli.  There 
is  a  reiiKirkabh;  ])assage  in  a  letter  of  Matthew 
Arnold  to  his  mother  in  18(52,  in  whicli,  speaking  of 
the  Colenso  controversy  and  the  timid  and  apologetic 
cliaracter  of  the  orthodox  defence,  lie  says : 

"I  do  not  think  it  possible  for  a  olorgyman  to  treat  these 
matters  satisfactorily.      In   Papa's  tiiiii'   it  was  so,  but  it  is 


WHAT   MIGHT   HAVE    BEEN  151 

so,  it  seems  to  me,  no  longer.  He  is  the  last  free  speaker  of 
the  Church  of  England,  who  speaks  without  being  sliacklcd, 
and  without  being  aware  that  he  is  so  and  that  he  is  in  a 
false  position  in  consequence :  the  moment  a  writer  feels  this 
his  power  is  gone.  I  may  add  that  if  a  clergyman  does  not 
feel  this  now  he  ought  to  feel  it.  The  best  of  them,  Jowett 
for  example,  obviously  do  feel  it.  I  am  quite  sure  Papa 
would  have  felt  it  had  he  been  living  now  and  thirty  years 
younger.  Not  that  he  would  have  been  less  a  Christian,  or 
less  zealous  for  a  National  Church,  but  his  attention  would 
have  been  painfully  awake  to  the  truth  that  to  profess  to  see 
Christianity  through  the  spectacles  of  a  number  of  second  or 
third  rate  men  who  lived  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  (and  this 
is  what  office-holders  under  the  thirty-nine  articles  do),  men 
whose  works  one  never  dreams  of  reading  for  the  purpose  of 
enlightening  and  edifying  one's  self,  is  an  intolerable  absurdity 
and  that  it  is  time  to  put  the  formularies  of  the  Ciiurch  of 
England  on  a  solider  basis." 


Of  one  thing  we  may  be  sure,  that  any  increased 
influence  which  he  might  have  obtained  later  would 
have  been  used  with  an  honest  endeavour  to  reconcile 
the  working  classes  to  the  Church,  and  to  make  the 
giilf  which  separates  them  from  what  is  called 
"society"  a  little  narrower  and  less  perilous.  As 
Professor  at  Oxford  he  would  doubtless  have  made 
substantial  contributions  to  historical  and  biographi- 
cal literature,  and  although  he  would  soon  have 
ceased  to  be  a  schoolmaster,  he  would  have  continued 
to  exercise  great  influence  as  a  governor  of  schools, 
and  as  a  speaker  in  conferences,  in  the  pulpit,  and 
possibly  in  the  House  of  Lords,  on  subjects  connected 
with  the  improvement  of  our  public  schools.     Books 


162  THOMAS   ARNOLD 

on  the  pliilosopliy  or  methods  of  education  it  was  not 
in  hira  to  write,  but  lie  would  certainly  have  found 
means  to  keep  in  public  view  the  principles  of  dis- 
cipline and  instruction  which  he  had  sought  to 
exemiDlify  at  Ilugby,  The  new  claims  of  the  phj-sical 
sciences  for  recognition  as  substantial  parts  of  a 
system  of  liberal  education  in  the  Universities  and 
public  schools  would  have  been  received  by  him  with 
>^ respect,  but  not  with  enthusiasm.  They  would  to 
the  last  have  seemed  to  him  inferior  in  weight  to 
the  older  claims  of  the  "  humanities  "  —  language, 
letters,  history,  and  philosophy  —  to  form  the  staple 
of  a  gentleman's  education. 

Nor  can  it  be  doubted  that,  had  his  life  been  pro- 
longed, the  later  developments  of  popular  instruction 
would  have  interested  him  keenly,  on  personal  as 
well  as  on  public  grounds.  His  solicitude  to  extend 
the  blessings  of  education  to  the  poorer  classes  was 
with  him  a  passion,  which  later  events  and  contro- 
versies would  have  done  much  to  intensify.  Kay 
Shuttleworth,  Lord  John  llussell,  William  Allen, 
Lord  Lansdowne,  and  Bishop  Stanley  of  Norwich 
would  have  found  in  him  an  energetic  ally.  And  none 
who  followed  with  any  care  the  discussions,  in  1870, 
on  the  introduction  of  the  Education  Act,  and  who 
marked  the  far-seeing  and  generous  spirit  in  which 
that  measure  was  conducted  through  Parliament  by 
]\rr.  AV.  E.  Eorster,  tlie  Vice-rresident  of  the  Council, 
could  fail  to  be  conscious  of  the  happy  influence  which 
had  descended  from  Ilugby  upon  that  statesman's  do- 
mestic life.     Those  of  us  who  were  privileged  in  those 


LATER  EDUCATIONAL  MEASURES      153 

days  to  know  the  interior  of  the  (lelightfnl  lionie  at 
Wharfeside,  understood  well  in  how  charuiiug  and 
effective  a  way  all  that  was  best  in  the  Arnoldian 
tradition  had  helped  to  shape  the  convictions  and  to 
control  the  policy  of  the  Minister  of  Education.  Had 
Arnold  lived  till  1870,  the  problem  which  his  son-in- 
law  was  called  upon  to  solve  would  have  aroused  his 
enthusiastic  interest;  and  his  guidance  and  encourage- 
ment would  certainly  not  have  been  wanting  in  the 
progress  of  the  Bill.  The  large  tolerance  which 
characterized  that  measure,  its  sympathy  with  the 
aspirations  of  the  working  classes  for  enlightenment 
and  culture,  the  political  insight  which  it  exhibited, 
and  above  all  the  determination  of  its  author  to 
enlist  on  behalf  of  a  system  of  National  Education  the 
co-operation  of  good  men  of  various  religious  creeds, 
would  all  have  appealed  to  Arnold's  sympathy. 
There  was  thus  a  very  real,  though  at  first  sight  not 
obvious  historical  connexion  between  Tliomas  Arnold 
and  the  memorable  Education  Act  of  1870. 

A  letter  which  I  have  received  from  the  Very  Rev. 
G.  D.  Boyle,  the  Dean  of  Salisbury,  sums  up  with  so 
much  truth  the  impression  which  Arnold's  life  and 
character  made  upon  the  generation  immediately  fol- 
lowing him,  that  it  may  be  fitting  to  insert  it  here: 

"  When  Dr.  Arnold  was  suddenly  taken  away  from  the 
work  of  his  great  school,  I  think  it  was  very  soon  evident 
from  the  generous  appreciation  of  his  work  at  Rugby  and 
as  a  professor  at  Oxford,  that  he  had  really  outlived  the 
many  severe  judgments  of  his  earlier  life,  and  had  fully 
justified  the  opinion  formed  of  him  by  the  Provost  of  Oriel, 


154  THOMAS    AKNOLI) 

Dr.  Hawkins,  wlicii  Ik;  was  a  candidate  fur  the  heatl-inaster- 
sliij).  All  who  had  l)een  at  Ku<,djy  under  him  were  never 
weaiy  in  tclliii!,'  (if  the  impression  made  by  his  earnest 
sermons  and  iiis  lessons  in  school.  But  from  the  mo- 
ment that  Dean  Stanley's  admirable  life  appeared,  Arnold's 
influence,  hitherto  confined  to  his  own  pupils,  became 
a  moving  force  in  English  school  life.  I  remember  well 
how  head-masters  and  under-masters  at  the  old  Charter- 
house exhorted  all  senior  boys  to  read  the  story  of  Arnold's 
life  and  aim  at  some  of  the  great  objects  so  admirably  de- 
scribed by  Stanley.  The  late  Dean  Howson  of  Chester,  who 
had  seen  Arnold  very  shortly  before  his  death,  told  me  that 
he  thought  the  contagious  enthusiasm  of  Dr.  Arnold's  char- 
acter had  been  fidly  represented  in  Stanley's  Life.  The 
unfinished  Roman  History  and  the  Oxford  Lectures  had  an 
influence  of  their  own.  From  the  time  when  the  rule  of 
Arnold  Avas  fully  recognized,  there  was  a  speedy  attempt  to 
introduce  greater  variety  into  the  course  of  school  lessons. 
'  Dr.  Moberly  told  me  that  he  had  never  known  anything 
like  the  fire  that  was  kindled  by  Arnold's  educational  work. 
Men,  who  were  far  from  agreeing  with  many  of  Arnold's  most 
cherished  beliefs,  gathered  from  his  examjile  and  method 
lessons  of  the  deepest  importance.  Arnold's  edition  of 
Thucydides  enabled  many,  for  the  first  time,  to  realize  the 
true  connexion  between  ancient  history  and  modern  political 
life.  His  generous  estimate  of  Mitford's  Grevve  in  his  Ox- 
ford Lectures,  and  his  hearty  delight  in  Carlyle's  French 
Revolution,  made  many  a  reader  feel  that  there  ought  to  be 
no  divorce  between  classical  studies  and  the  wide  accpiaintanue 
with  modern  literature  and  politics,  so  often  advocated  by  men 
like  the  late  Professor  Freeman  ami  Dean  Stanley.  When 
I  first  entered  the  University  of  Oxford  I  found  there  was 
a  disposition  on  the  j)art  of  many  to  undervalue  the  leading 
characteristics  of  Kugby  men.  It  may  have  been  true  that 
Arnold's  ])ower  was  sometimes  felt  too  keenly,  and  that  grave 
problems,  difficult  of  solution  were,  at  times,  aiti)roached  by 


TESTIMONIES   TO  HIS  INFLUENCE  155 

young  men  who  had  hardly  mastered  their  importance.  But 
when  I  remember  the  earnest  spirit  and  love  of  truth  mani- 
fested by  men  like  Walter  Stirling,  John  Conington,  Thomas 
Sandars,  Henry  Smith,  Theodore  Walrond,  and  William 
Bright — alas!  the  only  survivor  of  that  remarkable  group 
—  I  seem  to  realize  something  of  the  true  Arnoldian  df- 
flatus." 

Here  is  a  somewhat  different  testimony  from  an- 
other who  knew  and  loved  him.  In  one  of  Professor 
Jowett's  letters,  he  says  of  Arnold:  "His  peculiar 
danger  was  not  knowing  the  world  and  character,  — 
not  knowing  where  his  ideas  would  take  other  people 
and  ought  to  take  himself.  Yet,  had  he  been  living, 
how  we  would  have  nestled  under  his  wings!  "  ^ 

There  is  a  small  side  chapel  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
the  entrance  to  which  is  concealed  by  a  huge  cliff  in 
tbe  shape  of  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  Craggs, 
Addison's  colleague  as  Secretary  of  State.  In  this 
enclosure  the  seeker  may  find  a  group  of  memorial 
busts,  representing  F.  D.  Maurice,  Kingsley,  Keble, 
Wordsworth,  and  Matthew  Arnold.  And  in  1896  a 
marble  effigy  of  Thomas  Arnold  was  placed  in  this 
congenial  company.  The  ceremony  of  unveiling  was 
simple,  and  was  appropriately  performed  by  Dean 
Bradley,  himself  a  former  pupil  of  Arnold  at  Rugby. 
More  than  half  a  century  had  passed  since  Arnold's 
death,  but  in  that  time  his  fame  and  influence  had 
steadily  grown,  and  on  tlie  following  day,  Jul}^  17, 
189G,    an    accomplished    writer    in    the    Times    gave 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  Benjamin  Jowett,  by  E.  Abbott  and  L. 
Campbell. 


166  THOMAS   AUNOLI) 

expression  to  the  national  sentiment  in  words  wliich 
well  deserve  to  be  reproduced  here. 

"  No  one  made  a  deeper  change  in  education,  a  change 
wliich  profited  those  wlio  liad  never  been  at  a  pubUc  school. 
As  much  as  any  one  who  could  be  named,  Arnold  helped  to 
form  the  standard  of  manly  worth  by  wlncli  Englislimcn 
'  judge  and  submit  to  be  judged.  A  man  of  action  himself, 
he  sent  out  from  Rugby  men  fit  to  do  the  work  of  the 
world.  The  virtues  wliich  his  favourite  Aristotle  extolled  — 
courage,  justice,  and  temperance  —  were  his,  and  the  influ- 
ence of  his  character  and  teaching  was  calculated  to  make 
brave,  high-niinded  soldiers,  zealous  enlightened  clergymen, 
lawyers  with  a  just  sen.se  of  the  nature  of  their  vocation, 
and  useful  and  public-spirited  members  of  the  State.  The 
width  and  range  of  his  teacliing  are  apt  to  be  furgottcn  by 
those  who  dwell  on  his  personal  influence.  If  he  ottered  no 
large  interpretation  of  life,  if  in  his  writings  there  are  rarely 
'thoughts  beyund  the  reaches  of  the  soul,'  if  as  an  his- 
torian he  seems  more  at  home  in  dealing  with  tlie  geographi- 
cal aspects  of  his  subject,  or  in  clear  delineation  of  the 
movements  of  events,  than  in  discovering  the  hidden  springs 
of  action,  if  he  never  or  rarely  let  fall  a  pregnant  unforget- 
table word,  he  had  conceptions,  new  in  his  time,  fir.'^t  and 
foremost  liis  lofty  conception  of  education,  his  conception  of 
the  Church  as  a  great  agency  of  social  amelioration,  his  idea 
of  each  citizen's  duty  to  tiie  State,  his  view  of  history  a.s  a 
whole,  with  no  real  division  between  ancient  and  modern, 
the  interest,  new  in  his  time,  wliich  he  felt  in  the  elevation 
of  the  masses.  ( )ne  nuist  have  been  at  Rugby  or  Oxford  in 
the  thirties  to  apjirecriate  the  etti'ct  of  Arnold's  sermons  on 
generous,  su.sceptible  youth.  Even  in  tlie  voIuuKj-ef  national 
life  as  it  flows  to-day,  there  may  be  detected  the  efleet  of 
the  pure,  bracing  stream  which  long  ago  joined  it." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Matthew  Arnold — The  materials  for  his  biography  —  His  wishes 
—  The  main  facts  of  his  life  —  His  letters  —  His  character  —  His 
inspectorship  —  Distaste  for  official  routine  —  His  relations  to 
managers — A  school  manager's  recollections  —  The  office  of  a 
School  Inspector —  Its  opportunities  of  influence  —  The  Revised 
Code  —  Arnold's  methods  of  work  —  Testimony  of  his  assistant 

Dr.  Arnold's  eldest  son,  IVIatthew,  lias  since 
occupied  a  larger  s])ace  in  the  eyes  of  his  contem- 
poraries than  the  father  had  ever  filled.  He  is 
known  to  the  world  as  a  litterateur  of  singular  charm 
and  insight,  as  a  poet  of  unquestioned  genius,  and 
as  one  who  criticised  with  keenness,  but  Avith  a  deli- 
cate and  playful  humour  all  his  own,  the  literature, 
the  social  life,  the  religious  world,  and  the  political 
events  of  his  day.  In  all  these  resjDects  his  career 
and  influence  differed  substantially  from  those  of  his 
father.  During  thirty-five  years  of  his  life  his 
official  position  was  that  of  an  Inspector  of  Schools, 
and  the  influence  he  exerted  on  public  education  was 
necessarily  large.  None  hated  more  heartily  than 
he  the  hybrid  word  "educationist,"  or  would  sooner 
have  disavowed  it  as  a  designation  for  himself;  but 
it  was  as  an  educationist  that  a  large  section  of  the 
public  insisted  on  regarding  him,  and  it  is  with  his 
share  in  the  history  of  public  instruction,  and  in  the 
formation  of  public  opinion  upon  it,  that  we  are  here 
chiefly  concerned. 

157 


\fi  ''  MATtrtE^'    ARNOLD 

It  w.ls*  his  express  wish  tliat  lie  miglit  not  be  made 
the  subject  of  a  biography.  That  wish  has  been 
res'pl^CtecI  by  his  surviving  relatives,  and  implies  an 
equally  binding  obligation  upon  all  those  who  knew 
and  loved  him.  But  it  has  not  been  held  by  those 
most  competent  to  judge  to  be  a  reason  for  withhold- 
ing the  publication  of  a  selection  of  his  letters, 
wliicli  form,  in  fact,  an  autobiography.  The  two 
volumes  of  letters,  published  in  1895  under  the 
skilful  and  sympathetic  editorship  of  Mr_.  _GfOorge 
Russell,  cover,  in  fact,  the  whole  period  of  Arnold's 
"a^ctivity,  from  1848  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  disclose 
as  fully  as  any  biography  could  do  the  main  inci- 
dents of  his  career.  From  tliese  volumes,  from  of- 
ficial reports  which  are  jmhlici  juris,  and  from  his 
numerous  writings,  aided  in  some  small  degree  by 
my  personal  recollections  of  a  colleague  during  nearly 
thirty  years,  it  is  not  difficult  to  attempt  some  esti- 
mate of  the  influence  which  he  exerted  on  his 
generation. 

He  was  born  in  1822,  at  Laleham,  his  father  being 
then,  as  we  have  already  seen,  a  clergyman  without 
a  benefice,  occupied  in  preparing  young  pupils  for 
the  University.  In  183G  he  was  sent  to  "Winchester, 
the  school  of  which  his  father  always  retained  grate- 
ful recollections,  the"  head  master  being  Dr.  Moberly, 
afterwards  Bisliop  of  Salisbury.  In  the  following 
year  he  was  removed  to  Rugby,  where  he  lived  in  his 
father's  house.  In  1840  he  won  an  open  scholarsliip 
at  Balliol,  and  in  1841  a  school  exhibition.  During 
his  rosidonco  at  Oxford  he  succeeded  in  ubtainin''  the 


APPOINTMENT   AS   INSPECTOR  159 

Hertford  scliolarsliip  and  the  Newdigate  prize  for 
his  poem  on  Cromwell.  One  who  knew  him  well, 
and  was  his  constant  companion  at  Oxford,  said  of 
him  in  those  days :  "  His  perfect  self-possession,  the 
sallies  of  his  ready  wit,  the  humorous  turn  which  he 
could  give  to  any  subject  that  he  handled,  his  gaiety, 
exuberance,  versatility,  audacity,  and  unfailing  com- 
mand of  words,  made  him  one  of  the  most  popular 
ancl^M|b|sful  undergraduates  that  Oxford  has  ever 
knd^^^KIe  took  his  degree  in  the  Second  Class  in 
the  f^ml  Classical  Schools  in  1844,  and  obtained  a 
fellowship  at  Oriel  in  the  following  year,  just  thirty 
years  after  the  election  of  his  father.  Among  his 
colleagues  at  Oriel  were  Dean  Church,  Dean  Burgon, 
Fraser  afterwards  Bishop  of  Manchester,  Buckle 
afterwards  Canon  of  Wells,  Earle  afterwards  Pro- 
fessor of  Anglo-Saxon,  and  Arthur  Hugh  Clough. 

After  leaving  Oxford,  there  was  a  brief  period  in 
which  he  assisted  in  the  classical  teaching  at  Rugby, 
and  he  was  then  appointed  private  secretary  to  the 
Marquis  of  Lansdowne,  the  Lord  President  of  the 
Council  in  1847.  In  1851  Lord  Lansdowne  offered 
him  an  Inspectorship  of  Sq^ools  under  the  Privy 
Council,  and  in  the  same  year  he  married  Frances, 
daughter  of  Mr.  Justice  Wightman.  This  post  he 
held  up  to  the  year  1886,  when  he  retired  from  the 
public  service.  But  on  three  several  occasions,  as 
we  shall  see  hereafter,  he  was  detached  from  the 
regular  duties  of  the  inspectorship  for  special  ser- 
vices, and  inquiries  into  the  state  of  education  in 
foreign  countries.     Of   the   public   duties  which   lie 


160  MATTHEW  ARNOLD 

undertook  outside  that  of  tlie  Council  Office,  tlie 
most  important  were  the  Trofessorsliip  of  Poetry  at 
Oxford,  wliicli  lie  held  during  two  periods  of  five 
years  each,  from  1857  to  18G7,  and  the  lecturing  tour 
he  undertook  in  America  in  1883.  He  did  not  long 
.survive  his  retirement  from  the  public  service,  but 
died  suddenly  on  tlie  15th  of  April,  1888,  a  victim  to 
an  affection  of  the  heart  not  unlike  that  whicli  had 
proved  fatal  to  his  father  and  grandfatlier.  ^^^^ 

Tlie  two  volumes  of  letters,*  from  which^^^^pcts 
can  1)6  gleaned,  have  been  edited  with  judi^^^and 
pious  care  by  Mr.  George  AV.  E.  Russell.  They  will 
hardly  add  much  to  Arnold's  ZtVerar^  rejuitation;  and, 
interesting  as  they  are,  they  do  not  suffice  to  place  him 
in  the  ranks  of  the  great  letter-writers.  The  pecu- 
liar charm  Avhich  has  in  different  ways  given  to  the 
epistles  of  Cicero,  of  Erasmus,  of  Pope,  of  Cowper, 
of  Madame  de  Sevigne,  of  Chesterfield,  of  Charles 
Lamb,  and  of  Byron  their  right  to  a  permanent  place 
in  Epistolary  literature,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  pos- 
sessed by  these  letters.  They  Avere  evidently  not 
written  with  even  a  remote  view  to  their  possible 
publication.  Tliey  deal  only  incidentally  and  in  a 
small  degree  with  matters  of  public  and  historical 
interest,  and  they  do  not,  to  nearly  tlie  same  extent 
as  his  father's,  reveal  his  more  matureTl  and  serious 
views  on  groat  questions.  Tlwy  disclose  only  the  vie 
intime,  and  are  addressed  mainly  to  his  motlier,  his 
wife,  sisters,  and  daughters.      Very  few  of  them  are 

1  Letters  of  Matthew  Aniold,  1S48-1SS8.  Coll.-cte.l  ami  arraii^'o.l 
by  Goorge  W.  E.  RusseU. 


HIS   LETTERS  161 

addressed  to  public  men  or  colleagues.  Letters  of 
this  latter  kind  doubtless  exist,  and  would  have 
added  much  to  the  value  of  the  book  had  the  editor 
felt  at  liberty  to  use  them.  But  Mr.  Eussell,  whose 
own  fine  insight,  his  literary  gifts,  and  his  affection- 
ate relations  with  the  writer  of  the  letters  would 
have  specially  qualified  him  to  write  a  full  biogi-aphy, 
has  treated  tlie  wishes  of  his  friend  as  sacred;  and 
valjflj^^  are  the  materials  wliich  he  has  collected, 
tli^^^^Bli  only  an  inadequate  picture  of  Matthew 
Arnofl^T  life.  Yet  that  picture  is  one  of  singular 
attractiveness.  The  letters  enable  the  reader  to 
trace  the  successive  stages  of  a  career  of  steadily 
increasing  honour  and  public  usefulness.  They  re- 
veal a  tender  and  home-loving  nature,  great  fortitude 
under  •  disappointment  and  losses,  remarkable  intel- 
lectual activity,  a  keen  enjoyment  of  social  life  and 
of  foreign  travel,  strong  interest  in  public  events, 
and  an  unaffected  delight  at  the  reception  with  which 
his  own  writings  were  welcomed  by  the  reading 
public,  and  at  the  influence  and  fame  which  they 
brought  to  him. 

The  letters  show  also  how  singularly  happ}'  he  was 
in  his  domestic  relations,  how  mother,  wife,  sisters, 
and  children  were  specially  gifted  with  the  power  to 
evoke  what  was  best  in  him,  and  to  cheer  and  ani-j^ 
mate  his  life;  and  how  the  memor}-  of  his  father,  who 
had  so  early  been  removed  from  them,  continued  to 
hover  over  the  home,  to  give  a  sacredness  and  dignity 
to  the  whole  of  the  family  history,  and  to  ennoble  the 
aims  of  all  who  were  nearly  connected  with  him. 


162  MATTHEW   AllNOLD 

Incidentally,  also,  the  letters  disclose  features  of 
liis  cliaracter  which  would  otherwise  have  been  less 
clearly  known.  His  delight  in  natural  scenery,  and 
particularly  in  flowers,  his  fondness  for  pet  animals, 
the  avidity  with  which  in  his  travels  he  seized  upon 
and  appreciated  any  incidents  which  threw  light  on 
the  history  or  social  characteristics  of  foreign  peo- 
ples, the  patient  and  thorough  study  which  he  de- 
voted to  the  preparation  of  any  work  in^^Bk  he 
was  engaged, —  all  stand  revealed  in  his  ^^^Hbnd 
are  all  the  more  clearly  visible  because  of  th^m'ivet^ 
of  these  private  utterances,  so  different  in  many 
respects  from  the  account  lie  gives  of  himself  in  his 
published  writings.  As  one  reads  "  Arminius,"  and 
some  of  the  less  serious  articles  which  Arnold  wrote, 
one  is  apt  to  regard  the  writer  as  an  amiable  trifler, 
who  wrote  easily,  and  played  lightly  with  the  super- 
ficial aspect  of  great  questions.  But  the  reader  of 
his  letters  will  see  that  every  lecture  he  delivered 
and  every  article  he  wrote  was  a  real  task  to  him, 
and  Avas  carefully  thought  out  and  finished. 

One  learns  also  in  his  letters  from  abroad,  as  in  those 
of  his  father,  that  he  seems  to  be  very  little  attracted 
by  what  are  called  the  fine  arts.  He  is  impressed 
by  the  Duomo  of  Florence,'  and  by  the  splendour  and 
historical  associations  of  that  beautiful  o>iW;  but  of 
the  pictures  in  tlie  Ufiizi  and  the  Titti  .Gallery,  or 
indeed  of  any  art  collection  in  Europe,  ho  has  hardly 
a  word  to  say.  Sculpture,  paintinf^^  and  architecture 
do  not  arouse  in  him  the  critical  faculty.  Nor  did 
tlH>  modern  triuniplis  of  iirventiveness  and  cnttM-prise 


HIS   OFFICIAL   WORK  163 

ill  the  application  of  science  affect  liini  mucli.  Every 
man  who  is  good,  for  anything  has  limitations  to  his 
tastes  and  sympathies ;  and  it  is  interesting  to  notice 
all  through  his  letters  the  supreme  place  which  let- 
ters, philosophy,  and  history  occupied  in  his  ideal 
of  human  development  and  culture,  and  the  com- 
paratively low  place  he  assigned  to  material  interests 
and  progress. 

An#(Jier  limitation,   less   pleasant  to   dwell   upon, 
becoi|^  very  manifest  as  the  reader  makes  the  per- 
sonal acquaintance  of  the   writer  of  these   familiar 
and  cliarming  letters.     He  speaks  constantly  of  his 
official  work  in  terms  Avhich  shoAv  that  it  was  dis- 
tasteful to  him,  and  that  he  regarded  it  as  drudgery ; 
e.g.  "It  is  a  long,  tedious  business  hearing  the  stu^ 
dents  give  specimen  lessons  at  the  Training  Schools,    j 
There  is  little  real  utility  in  it  and  a  great  deal  of  j 
claptrap,  and  that  makes  the  expenditure  of  time  the  | 
more  disagreeable ''to  "me.     However,    I  get  a   good 
many  notes,  written,    and  odds  and  ends    of  things  ) 
done."^      Throughout    the    letters    appear    constant 
references   to   his  official  work  as   uncongenial  and 
wearisome.     It  was  not  a  profession  he  would  have 
chosen   had   he   been   free   to   choose.     When   Lord 
Lansdowne  offered  him  the  post,  he  accepted  it,  as 
he  used  frankly  to  say  afterwards,  because  he  wished  -^.^ 
to  marry,  and  because'an  assured  inoome  was.neces- 
sary  for  him.     Having,-. however,  be^  appointed  to 
the  office,  he  conscientiously  'soiight  to  perform  its 

1  Letter,  Nov.  15,  1870. 


164  MATTHKW   ARNOLD 

duties,  ami  at  first  he  expected  to  find  tlie  work  more 
interesting  than  it  proved  to  be. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  get  interested  in  the  schools 
after  a  little  time  ;  the  effeets  on  the  ciiiklren  are  so  immense, 
and  their  future  effects  in  civilizing  the  next  generation  of 
the  lower  classes  who,  as  things  are  going,  will  have  most 
of  the  political  power  of  the  country  in  their  hands,  may  be 
so  important.  It  is  really  a  fine  sight  in  Manchester  to  see 
the  anxiety  felt  about  them,  and  the  time  and  mo»y  the 
heads  of  the  cotton  manufacturing  population  arc  willing 
to  give  them.  In  arithmetic,  geography,  and  history  the 
excellence  of  the  schools  I  have  seen  is  quite  wonderful,  and 
almost  all  the  children  have  an  equal  amount  of  informa- 
tion ;  it  is  not  confined,  as  in  schools  of  the  richer  classes,  to 
the  one  or  two  cleverest  boys." 

As  time  went  on,  however,  his  official  work  became 
less  attractive  than  he  liad  hoped  to  find  it.  In  1854, 
in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  he  says:  "I  more  and  more 
have  the  feeling  that  I  do  not  do  my  inspecting  work 
really  well  and  satisfactorily,  but  I  liave  also  had  a 
stronger  wish  than  usual  not  to  vacillate  and  be  help- 
less, but  to  do  my  duty,  whatever  that  may  be ;  and 
out  of  tliat  wish  one  may  always  hope  to  make  some- 
thing." When  the  proposal  was  made  to  him  in 
185*.)  that  he  should  go  out  as  Foreign  Commissioner, 
the  relief  was  peculiarly  welcome  to  him.  "  You 
know,"  he  writes  to  his  sister,  "that  I  have  no 
special  interest  in  the  subject  of  public  education, 
but  a  mission  like  this  appeals  even  to  the  general 
interest  which  every  educated  man  cannot  help  feel- 
ing in  such   a  sul»ject.      1   sliall    for   live  months  get 


ROUTINE  165 

free  from  the  routine  work  of  it,  of  which  I  some- 
times get  very  sick,  and  be  dealing  with  its  history 
and  principles."  ^ 

Again,  in  1862,  he  writes :  "  I  sometimes  grow 
impatient  of  getting  old  amidst  a  press  of  occupa- 
tions and  labour  for  which,  after  all,  I  was  not  born. 
The  work  I  like  is  not  very  compatible  with  any 
other.  Bat  we  are  not  here  to  have  facilities  found 
us  for  doing  the  work  we  like,  but  to  make  them." 
When  superintending  the  business  of  making  out 
statistical  returns  in  1871,  with  a  view  to  setting  the 
Education  Act  in  motion,  he  was  supplied  with  an 
assistant,  of  whom  he  says: 

"  He  has  done  his  work  very  Avell  and  likes  all  the  bustle 
and  the  business  of  connnunioating  with  school  managers, 
and  they  also  like  to  be  communicated  with.  I  like  to  set 
my  man  in  motion,  lay  out  for  him  the  range  of  the  infor- 
mation I  want,  sufler  him  to  get  it  in  his  own  way  and  at 
whatever  length  best  suits  him  and  the  managers,  hear  his 
story  and  often  decide  on  the  recommendation  to  be  made. 
There  are  a  few  points  of  real  difficulty  sometimes  in  mak- 
ing a  recommendation,  and  here  I  think  I  am  useful.  There 
is  no  difficulty  in  all  the  rest ;  others  can  do  it  quite  as  well 
as  I  can,  and  I  am  glad  not  to  spend  myself  upon  it.  It  is, 
however,  what  I  have  generally  been  spent  upon  for  the  last 
twenty  years  so  for  as  public  education  is  concerned."  ^ 

This  extract  is  characteristic,  for,  while  it  shows 
his  real  interest  in  any  question  where  principle  or 
policy  was  concerned,  it  also  betrays  his  repugnance 

1  Letter,  Feb.  Ifi,  1859. 

2  Letter,  Nov.  28,  1871. 


M-! 


166  MATIIIKW    Ai;.\t>M) 

to  the  uiere  ik-tuils  of  olHcial  iidiuiiiistnitioii.  Ilear- 
iug  the  lessons  of  students  of  the  Tniiuing  Colleges, 
and  estimating  their  goodness  or  badness,  for  exam- 
ple, appeared  to  him  the  most  wearisome  drudgery. 
Here  is  a  playful  sketch  of  his  inspectorial  work : 

"  I  must  go  back  to  my  chaniiiiig  occui)ation  of  hearing 
students  give  lessons.  Here  is  my  i)rograrnme  for  this  after- 
noon :  Avalanches,  the  Steam  Engine,  tlie  Thames,  Indian 
Rubber,  Bricks,  the  Battle  of  Poictiers,  Subtraction,  the 
Reindeer,  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  the  Jordan.  Alhuing,  is 
it  not?  Twenty  minutes  each,  and  the  days  of  one's  hfe 
arc  only  threescore  years  and  ten  ! "  ^ 

Under  all  these  playful  yet  half -pathetic  grum- 
blings, there  was  concealed  more  of  real  interest  in 
the  duties  of  liis  office  than  he  actually  acknowle'dged. 
And,  in  truth,  it  may  be  doubted  if  any  other  labori- 
ous and  responsible  post  in  the  public  service  would 
have  suited  him  better.  A  secretaryship,  or  any 
office  which  condemned  him  to  sit  for  six  hcmrs  a 
day  at  a  desk,  minuting  documents  and  "having  tlie 
honour  to  be,"  would  have  proved  intolerable  to  liim. 
The  inspectorship,  at  least,  offered  him  more  freed(jm, 
more  variety,  greater  power  of  adjusting  his  duties  to 
his  own  convenience,  and,  it  must  be  owned,  in  his 
case  at  least,  larger  leisure  for  literary  pursuits  than 
he  fould  have  otherwise  obtained.  Like  Charles 
Lamb,  JuhnMni,  and  Henry  Taylor,  ho  chaft'd 
occasionally  under  the  restraints  of  ottieial  nnitine. 
But  on  the  whole  the  jmblie  has  dealt  imlulgi'iitly 
with  tliose  of  its  servants  who  have  reflected  lustrt; 


TEKSONAL   INFLUENCE  167 

on  official  life  by  the  repute  they  have  gained  in  the 
world  of  letters;  and  Arnold  was  alwaj's  ready  to 
acknowledge  that  he  had  been  permitted  to  bear  the 
yoke  lightly,  and  that  his  colleagues  and  official 
superiors,  who  were  all  proud  of  him,  did  their  best 
to  relieve  him  from  work  which  he  disliked. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  his  visits  to  managers 
were  peculiarly  welcome,  on  personal  grounds,  and 
that  incidentally,  though  without  any  show  of  official 
authority,  he  often  helped  them  mucli  in  showing 
the  direction  which  their  own  efforts  ought  to  take. 
For  example,  the  Dean  of  Salisbury,  in  his  inter- 
esting Recollections,  speaks  warmly  of  tlie  intense 
refreshment  and  pleasure  he  had  when  IMatthew 
Arnold  came  to  inspect  a  school  at  Kidderminster. 

"  I  once,"  he  adds,  "  heard  a  ftimous  preacher  at  Oxford 
compare  a  student's  first  acquaintance  with  Beugel's  Com- 
mentary to  the  admission  of  a  ray  of  light  when  a  shutter 
was  opened  in  a  darkened  room.  The  arrival  of  Matthew 
Arnold  at  my  lodgings  was  something  like  this.  He  brought 
with  him  a  complete  atmosphere  of  culture  and  poetry.  He 
had  something  to  tell  of  Sainte-Beuve's  last  criticism,  some 
new  book  like  Lewes'  Life  of  Goethe  to  recommend,  some 
new  political  interest  to  unfold,  and,  in  sh.ort,  he  carried  you 
away  from  the  routine  of  every-day  life  with  his  enthusiasm 
and  his  spirit.  He  gave  me  most  valuable  advice  as  to  the 
training  of  pupil  teachers.  '  Open  their  minds,'  he  would 
say,  'take  them  into  the  world  of  Shakespeare,  and  try  to 
make  them  feel  that  there  is  no  book  so  full  of  poetry  and 
beauty  as  the  Bible.'  He  had  something  to  tell  me  of 
Stanley  and  Clough,  and  it  is  really  difficult  to  say  what  a  1 
dehglitful  tonic  effect  his  visits  produced.   .  .   .     One  of  his 


168  MATTllKW   AIJ.NnM) 

pleasantcst  clmr;u-tcvi.stic.s  was  his  perfect  reailiiiess  to  dis- 
cuss with  complete  coimiiaiid  of  temper,  views  ami  opinions 
of  his  own  which  he  knew  I  did  not  share  and  thought  dan- 
gerous. All  who  knew  him  constantly  regretted  that  a  man 
of  such  wonderful  gifts  sliouhl  have  to  spend  his  life  in  the 
laborious  duties  of  a  School  Inspector."  ^ 

To  Dr.  Boyle,  as  a  school  manager,  naturally 
anxious  about  the  record  of  "passes"  and  the  amount 
of  the  government  grant,  tlie  School  Inspector  was 
apt  to  seem  a  state  functionary  only,  a  hardened 
official,  condemned  to  routine  and  absorbed  in  the 
mechanical  duty  of  examining  young  children  and  in 
tilling  up  schedules  and  returns,  liut  neitlier  he  nor 
any  of  Arnold's  many  admirers,  who  used  to  describe 
his  work  as  that  of  one  "cutting  blocks  with  a  razor," 
ever  took  due  heed  of  the  manifold  interests  witli 
which  a  School  Inspector  comes  in  contact,  or  the 
many  opportunities  which  his  office  presents  of  pub- 
lic usefulness  and  intellectual  influence. 

And  it  must  be  owned  that  Arnold  himself  hardly 
realized  the  value  of  such  opportunities  or  the  impor- 
tance of  the  functions  which  he  was  called  on  to 
discharge.  Every  official  post  in  the  world  has  in 
ir  possibilities  which  are  not  easily  visible  to  the 
outside  critic,  and  which  cannot  be  measured  by  the 
merely  technical  requirements  laid  down  by  author- 
ity. .  And  this  is  true  in  a  very  sj)ecial  sense  of  sucli 
an  office  as  Inspector  of  Schools,  when  the  holder  of 
the  office  likes  and  enjoys  his  work  and  seeks  ampliare 

1  liecoUcctioiis  of  J)can  Itoijlv,  y>.  180. 


THE    INSrECT(.)R'S   DUTIES  1G9 

jurisdictionem,  and  to  turn  to  the  most  l)eii(mcial  yt^Q 
the  means  at  his  command  and  the  authorifl^^'Plnch 
his  office  gives.  His  first  dut}-,  of  conrse,  is  to 
verify  the  conditions  on  which  public  aid  is  offered 
to  schools,  and  to  assure  the  Department  that  the 
nation  is  obtaining  a  good  equivalent  for  its  outlay. 
But  this  is  not  the  whole.  He  is  called  upon  to  visit 
from  day  to  day  schools  of  very  different  types,  to 
observe  carefully  the  merits  and  demerits  of  each, 
to  recognize  with  impartiality  very  various  forms 
of  good  work,  to  place  himself  in  symjiathy  with 
teachers  and  their  difficulties,  to  convey  to  each  of 
them  kindly  suggestions  as  to  methods  of  discipliu 
and  instruction  he  has  observed  elsewhere,  and  t 
leave  behind  him  at  every  school  he  inspects  some 
stimulus  to  improvement,  some  useful  counsel  to 
managers,  and  some  encouragement  to  teachers  and 
children  to  do  their  best.  There  are  few  posts  in  the 
public  service  which  offer  larger  scope  for  the  benefi- 
cial exercise  of  intellectual  and  moral  power,  or 
which  bring  the  holder  into  personal  and  influential 
relations  with  a  larger  number  of  people.  It  will  be 
an  unfortunate  day  for  the  Civil  Service  if  ever  the 
time  comes  when  an  office  of  this  kind  is  regardetf  as 
one  of  inferior  rank,  or  is  thought  unworthy  of  the 
acceptance  of  men  of  high  scholarship  and  intel- 
lectual gifts.  To  hundreds  of  schools  in  remote  and 
apathetic  districts,  the  annual  visit  of  an  experienced 
public  officer,  conversant  Avith  educational  Avork  and 
charged  with  the  duty  of  ascertaining  how  far  the 
ideal  formed  at  headquarters  and  under  the  authority 


'^ 


170  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

of  Parliament  has  been  fulfilled,  is  an  event  of  no 
small  importance.  And  it  matters  much  to  the 
civilization  of  the  whole  district  whether  this  duty 
is  entrusted  to  pedants  and  detectives  who  confine 
their  attention  to  the  routine  of  examination,  or  to 
men  whose  own  attainments  command  respect,  and 
who  are  qualified  by  insight,  enthusiasm,  and  breadth 
of  sympathy  to  advise  local  authorities,  and  to  form 
a  just  judgment  both  of  the  work  of  a  school  and 
of  the  spirit  in  which  the  work  is  done.  He  whose 
OAvn  thoughts  and  tastes  move  habitually  on  the 
higher  plane  is  the  best  qualified  to  see  in  true  per- 
spective the  business  of  the  lower  plane,  and  to  recog- 
nize tlie  real  meaning  and  value  of  the  humblest 
detail. 

"  For  most  men  in  a  brazen  prison  live, 
Where  in  the  sun's  hot  eye, 
With  heads  bent  o'er  their  toil,  they  languidly 
Their  lives  to  some  unmeaning  task-work  give. 
Dreaming  of  nouglit  beyond  tlieir  jtrison  wall. 
And  as  year  after  year 
Fresh  products  of  their  barren  labour  fall 
From  their  tired  hands,  and  rest 
Never  yet  comes  more  near. 
Gloom  settles  slowly  down  over  their  breast ; 
And  while  they  try  to  stem 

The  waves  of  mom-nful  thought  by  wliioh  they  are  prest, 
Death  in  tlieir  prison  reaches  them 
Unfreed,  liaving  seen  notliing,  still  unblcst."  * 

This  was  not  an  ideal  of  life  which  satisfied  Arnold. 
But  I  am  unable  to  agree  witli  those  who  think  his 
1  A  Sluuuier  Niuli-. 


rUNIVERJIT 
HIS   ESTIMATE   OF  A   SCHOOlNv^o^^,|^pj^,,^^^ 

great  gifts  were  thrown  away  upon  a  thankless  and 
insignificant  office.     It  is  true,  he  regarded  many  of 
its  duties  as  mere  task-work,  and  that  he  reserved 
the  best  of  himself  for  literary  and  other  employ- 
ments more  congenial  to  him.     But  it  is  also  true 
that  his  influence  on  the  schools  was  in  its  own  way 
far  more  real  and  telling  than  he  himself  supposed. 
Indirectly,    his   fine  taste,    his  gracious   and   kindly, 
manner,  his  honest  and  generous  recognition  of  any\ 
new  form  of  excellence  which  he  observed,  all  tended  / 
to  raise  the  aims  and  the  tone  of  the  teachers  with| 
whom  he  came  in  contact,  and  to  encourage  in  them  j 
self-respect  and  respect  for  their  work.  /^ 

From  the  official  point  of  view,  he  was  not,  it  milst 
be  owned,  an  exacting  Inspector.  If  he  saw  little 
children  looking  good  and  happ}^,  and  under  the  care 
of  a  kindly  and  sympathetic  teacher,  he  would  give 
a  favourable  report,  without  inquiring  too  curiously 
into  the  percentage  of  scholars  who  could  pass  the 
"  standard  "  examination.  He  valued  the  elementary 
schools  rather  as  centres 
influence  than  as  places 
number  of  children  to  spe 

given  number  of  sums  without  a  mistake.  Hence 
he  was  never  in  sympathy  with  the  drastic  and 
revolutionary  policy  recommended  by  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle's  Commission  in  1861,  under  which  the 
only  measure  of  the  efficiency  of  a  school  was  to  be 
the  number  of  "passes"  in  reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic  it  could  contrive  to  score.  This  policy 
was   afterwards   known   as   "Payment   by   Results," 


He  valued  the  elementary 
of  civilization  and  refining   ) 
for  enabling  the  maximum  I 
pell  and  write,  and  to  do  a  ^ 


j\  lie  ne^ 
'I  to  enc 


172  MATTHEW   AKNOLD 

and  was  adopted  by  Parliament  at  the  instance  of 
Mr.  Robert  Lowe,  then  Vice-President  of  the  Council, 
who  defended  the  princiide  Avith  great  ability,  and 
who  embodied  it  pitilessly  and  in  its  most  unquali- 
fied form  in  the  celebrated  Revised  Code  of  1862. 
Arnold  was  willing  to  admit  that  the  application  of 
this  rather  wooden  and  statistical  test  to  school  work 
really  protected  a  great  many  of  the  less  promising 
scholars  from  neglect,  and  brought  up  a  larger  num- 
ber of  them  than  before  to  a  certain  level  of  pro- 
ficiency in  the  mere  rudiments  of  instruction.  But 
never  ceased  to  complain  that  the  system  tended 
-_  encourage  mechanical  and  unintelligent  methods 
of  teaching,  to  leave  out  of  view  the  best  results 
of  intellectual  discipline  and  moral  training,  and 
to  lower  the  conception  of  teachers  in  regard  to 
the  true  office  and  work  of  a  good  school.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Revised  Code  did  much  to 
increase  his  distaste  for  his  official  duty  and  to  make 
him  feel  that  he  was  working  under  unfavourable 
conditions.  It  will  be  seen  hereafter  that  Avhen 
opportunity  offered,  he  showed  a  frank  courage  all 
the  more  creditaljle  to  one  whose  reports  were  pre- 
sented to  his  official  superiors,  and  that  he  pointed 
out  with  clearness  and  force  the  inadequacj^  of  the 
system  and  its  impoverishing  effect  on  the  instruc- 
tion. 

His  valued  assistant,  Mr.  Thomas  Healing,  who 
wrought  with  him  among  the  AVestminster  Schools 
for  several  years,  thus  describes  his  methods  of 
work: 


MR.   HEALING'S   TESTIMONY  173 

"  I  was  struck  by  bis  i^erfect  frankness  and  candour  in  all 
bis  educational  relationsbips.  He  never  pretended  to  be  an 
oracle  in  metbods  of  instruction,  and  tberefore  never  attempted 
to  prescribe  to  teacbers  tbe  precise  metbods  tbey  sbould  use, 
tbougb  be  would  often  kindly  criticise  a  teacber's  mode  of 
bandbng  a  subject  if  it  lacked  simplicity  or  breadtb  of  treat- 
ment. For  example,  tbe  multiplication  of  mere  topograpbical 
details  in  geograpby,  neglect  to  arrange  facts  in  illustration 
of  great  general  princiijles,  or  wandering  among  points  of 
little  practical  value  in  grammar,  wbile  tbe  main  facts  and 
rules  bearing  upon  tbe  construction  of  sentences  were  over- 
looked. Sucb  errors  in  metbod  always  drew  from  bim  an 
adverse  judgment,  because  be  was  particularly  open  to  admire 
logical  arrangement,  clearness,  tbe  marsballing  of  matter  in 
view  of  a  definite  end.  But  even  in  sucb  cases  be  rarely 
suggested  tbe  metbod  tbat  sbould  be  adopted.  He  claimed 
"  free  play  for  tbe  Inspector  "  and  accorded  tbe  same  to  tbe 
teacber,  being  always  ready  to  acknowledge  and  praise  origi- 
nality of  treatment,  and  to  allow  bim  full  liberty  to  gi^-e 
any  turn  to  the  instruction  for  wbicb  bis  special  tastes  and 
acquirements  qualified  bim. 

"Xeitber  did  lie  pose  as  a  specialist  in  tbe  matter  of 
scbool-fittings  and  architecture.  Some  of  bis  judgments  on 
tbese  topics,  a.s  contained  in  bis  reports  (e.g.  tbe  use  and 
abuse  of  galleries,  tbe  Old  Britisb  tripartite  system),  are  most 
reasonable  and  sound ;  but  they  are  rather  the  opinions  of 
an  educated  outsider,  speaking  from  tbe  fiicts  brought  under 
his  notice,  than  of  tbe  specialist.  He  knew  and  highly 
esteemed  those  of  bis  colleagues,  who,  in  tbese  technical 
matters,  could  speak  with  authority. 

"  In  tbe  Elementary  Schools  be  did  much  to  improve  tbe 
reading  books.  He  complamed  of  many  of  them  as  filled 
'with  the  writing  of  second  or  third  rate  authors,  feeble, 
incorrect,  and  colourless,'  or  'with  dry  scientific  disquisi- 
tions, which  are  tbe  worst  possible  instruments  for  teaching 


174  MAI  TIIKW    ARNOLD 

to  read,  and  wliieh  spoil  the  scholar's  taste  when  they  are 
nearly  his  only  means  for  forming  it.'  I  happen  to  know 
of  cases  in  which  books  were  recast,  owing  to  his  influence, 
and  their  matter  substantially  improved. 

"Mr.  Arnold  frequently  drew  attention  to  the  want  of 
culture  in  the  case  of  both  pupil  teachers  and  Training-College 
students,  as  evidenced  by  their  inability  to  paraphrase  a  plain 
passage  of  prose  or  poetry,  without  totally  misapprehending 
it,  or  tailing  into  gross  blunders  of  taste  and  expression.  He 
states  his  opinion  that  the  study  of  portions  of  the  best 
English  authors  and  composition  might  with  advantage  be 
made  a  part  of  their  regular  course  of  instruition  to  a  greater 
degree  than  prevailed  at  the  time.  His  anxiety  that  the 
children  should  feel  the  refining  influence  of  letters  led  him, 
as  the  best  means  to  attain  that  end,  to  promote  the  higher 
education  of  teachers,  and  especially  to  direct  them  to  the 
study  of  literature.  He  iu^^pired  many  a  young  teacher  with 
the  desire  to  work  in  the  direction  of  obtaining  a  London 
degree,  and  even  those  who  did  not  succeed  were  permanently 
benefited  by  the  eff"orts  they  made.  If  he  found  a  young 
man  of  promise  in  a  school,  he  generally  had  with  him  some 
serious  and  sympathetic  talk  on  this  subject ;  and  some  have 
told  me  in  the  after  years  that  they  would  never  have 
attempted  a  work  of  such  difficulty  but  for  the  stimulus 
applied  by  Mr.  Arnold.  In  the  same  direction  was  his 
advocacy  of  the  teaching  of  French  and  Latin  to  the  more 
advanced  scholars.  He  thought  the  stutly  of  an  inflecteil 
language  would  prove  helpful  in  studying  granmiatical  i)rin- 
ciples,  and  that  Latin  would  give  an  insight  into  the  mean- 
ing of  many  English  words,  and  help  to  widen  the  vocabulary. 
His  advice  in  the  matter  of  languages  was  not  taken  to  any 
large  extent,  though  something  was  done  ;  and  Mr.  Arnold 
gave  an  aiunial  ])rize  to  be  competed  for  by  the  i)upil  teach- 
ers of  his  district  in  elementary  French. 

"His  ideal  of  excellence  was  high.  His  own  eminence  in 
litciature,  and  his  earnest  belief  in  the  power  of  lettei-s,  as 


HIS   METHOD   OF   INSPECTION  175 

.  interpreted  by  himself,  to  huinanize  and  elevate  men  and  to 
make  them  reasonable,  led  him  to  take  the  steps  I  have  indi- 
cated for  teachers  and  scholars  to  come  under  its  influence. 
In  a  school,  he  looked  for  indications  of  the  operation  of  this 
power,  as  shown  in  the  performance  of  recitation  with  due 
intelligence  and  expression  and,  if  possible,  with  feeling ;  in 
grammar  wdien  marked  by  accurate  thinking  and  correct 
application  of  rules  ;  and  in  composition  by  appropriate  use 
of  words.  He  expected  that  orderly  thiidving  and  the  habit 
of  stating  things  clearly  should  be  shown  in  other  subjects  of 
instruction,  valuing  these  exc^ellences  for  above  mechanical 
accuracy  or  stores  of  crude  information.  Though  endowed 
with  deficient  musical  fixculty,  he  appreciated  tasteful  singing, 
and  highly  estimated  its  refining  influence. 

"  In  striving  to  arrive  at  a  just  estimate  of  the  state  of  the 
instruction  in  a  school,  he  would  often  examine  in  elementary 
subjects  the  Second  Standard,  as  giving  some  measure  of  the 
accuracy  of  the  spelling  and  arithmetic ;  and  then  the  read- 
ing, recitation,  and  grammar  of  the  upper  division,  thus  gaug- 
ing the  extent  to  which  anything  approaching  culture  had 
penetrated.  His  usefulness  as  an  Inspector,  a])pears  to  me, 
lay  very  much  in  his  success  in  bi'inging  some  tincture  of 
letters  into  the  curriculum  of  the  Elementary  School. 

"  As  an  eminent  critic  and  man  of  letters,  possessing  a  great 
knowledge  of  the  state  of  education  at  home  in  its  broader 
aspects  throngh  a  most  extensive  acquaintance  witli  writers, 
and  with  the  clergy,  the  scholastic  and  legal  professions,  and 
a  similar  fomiliarity  with  continental  education  through  his 
employment  on  European  educational  commissions,  he  brought 
to  the  study  of  all  educational  problems  an  enlightened  judg-, 
ment  and  a  power  of  comparison  possible  to  very  few.  Con- 
sequently, his  views  and  conclusions  were  such  as  would  in 
most  cases  command  the  assent  of  the  great  public  of  cidt- 
ured  men  —  of  the  University  and  literary  class  lie  knew  so 
well." 


CHAPTER  IX 

Arnold  ,as  an  officer  of  the  Education  Department  —  His  official 
reports  —  Inspection  and  examination  —  Formative  studies  — 
Leariiinji  of  poetry — Grammar  —  Latin  and  French  in  tlie  pri- 
mary scliool  —  Science  teacliin^j  and  I^^titio-kimde  —  Distrust  of 
pedagogic  rules  —  (General  aim  ami  scope  of  an  elementary 
school  —  The  teacher's  personal  cultivation  —  Religious  instruc- 
ticm— The  Bible  in  the  common  school  — Arnold's  attempt  at  a 
school  reading-book  with  extracts  from  Isaiah  —  The  failure  of 
this  attempt 

Matthew  Arnold's  position  as  an  officer  of  the 
Education  Department  was  exceptional  and,  in  some 
respects,  unique.  When  he  was  first  appointed,  there 
was  a  concordat  between  the  Council  Office  and  the 
various  religious  bodies,  in  virtue  of  Avhich  none  but 
clergymen  were  cliarged  witli  the  duty  of  inspecting 
Church  of  England  scliools.  In  like  manner  Komam 
Catholic  inspectors  were  cliarged  with  tlie  inspection  of 
Catholic  schools.  His  own  duty,  tlierefore,  as  a  lay  In- 
spector, was  to  visit  the  schools  connected  witli  the 
British  and  Foreign  School  Society,  "Wesleyan,  and 
other  Protestant  schools  not  connected  with  the  Churcli 
of  England.  As  these  schools  were  far  less  numerous 
than  others,  the  district  assigned  to  him  at  first  was 
very  large,  comprising  nearly  one-third  of  England. 
After  the  Education  Act  of  1870,  the  system  of 
denominational  inspection  was  necessarily,  and  very 
properly,  abandoned;    districts  became   smaller,  and 


HIS   OFFICLVL   DUTIES  177 

the  official  Inspector  was  required  to  visit  all  the 
schools  which  received  Government  aid  in  the  area 
assigned  to  him.  From  this  time  his  official  work 
became  less  laborious,  and  was  practically  limited  to 
one  of  the  easiest  divisions  of  the  metropolis, — the 
borough  of  Westminster,  —  a  district  so  well  provided 
with  voluntary  denominational  schools  that  for  a 
long  time  there  was  in  it  only  one  school  provided 
by  the  London  School  r>oard. 

As  a  Chief  Inspector  he  had  the  nominal  super- 
vision of  his  colleagues  in  the  southeastern  Division; 
but  the  plans  which  were  adopted  under  the  Vice- 
Presidency  of  Mr.  Mundella,  in  1882,  for  making 
this  supervision  effective,  and  for  co-ordinating  and 
harmonizing  the  work  of  the  District  Inspectors  by 
means  of  visitation  and  by  conferences  with  their  chief, 
hardly  came  to  maturity  during  Arnold's  term  of 
office,  and  practically  his  opportunities  for  inter- 
course with  his  colleagues  were  not  numerous.  He 
was  never  actually  a  member  of  the  well-known  Code 
Committee;  for,  as  it  has  been  said,  the  details  of 
administration,  the  framing  of  S3dlabuses  and  sched- 
ules, and  the  laying  down  of  the  legal  conditions 
under  which  the  public  grant  should  be  assessed  and 
distributed,  were  tasks  not  to  his  mind.  But  when 
questions  of  principle  were  involved,  he  was  fre- 
quently consulted,  and  we  who  Avere  his  colleagues 
received  from  him  at  times  very  weighty  and  prac- 
tical suggestions.  I  remember  well  the  discussion 
when  the  question  arose,  "Should  the  teaching  of 
English   be  a  compulsory    subject,    or  should   it  re- 


178  MATTHEW  ARNOLD 

main  optional,  say  between  geography  or  elementary 
science?"  On  that  point  he  was  emphatic.  Every- 
thing else  taught  in  an  elementary  school  might,  he 
said,  be  made  a  matter  of  memory  or  routine,  but 
good  exercises  in  the  vernacular  language,  and  in  the 
meaning,  formation,  and  right  use  of  words,  repre- 
sented the  one  kind  of  knowledge  in  which  "  cram " 
was  impossible,  and  which  must,  if  acquired  at  all, 
be  gained  by  an  effort  of  thought.  He  regarded  any 
system  of  popular  education  incomplete  which  did 
not  provide  for  instruction  in  the  right  use  of  the 
mother-tongue,  as  a  condition  precedent  to  the  acqui- 
sition of  all  else.  He  dreaded  overloading  the 
curriculum  of  the  elementary  school  with  too  numer- 
ous or  pretentious  subjects ;  and  was  well  content  to 
limit  the  imniber  of  optional  subjects  which  might 
be  selected  by  a  teacher  from  a  list  containing  geog- 
raphy, history,  and  various  branches  of  science.  But 
some  insight  into  the  grammar  and  literature  of  the 
English  language  was  in  his  view  indispensable,  and 
should,  in  the  higher  classes  at  least,  be  invariably 
insisted  on. 

But  the  chief  means  at  his  disposal  for  impressing 
these  and  otlier  views  on  elementary  education  upon 
the  Department,  teachers,  and  managers,  and  upon 
the  public  generally,  were  his  annual  repiu'ts,  which 
were  widely  read  by  persons  Avho  seldom  cared  to 
consult  Blue  Books.  From  1852  to  1882  these  lie- 
ports,  interrupted  only  by  his  occasional  emplo^'ment 
on  foreign  service,  illuminated  the  official  records  of 
tlie  Committee  of  ('ouiicil  on  Kdiu-alion  and  attracted 


HIS   ANNUAL   REPORTS  179 

much  public  attention.  Much  of  what  he  said  dealt 
necessarily  Avith  statistics,  with  changes  in  the  Code, 
and  with  matters  of  ephemeral  controversy.  But 
he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  which  these 
reports  offered  to  state  with  some  fulness  his  own 
views  on  many  subjects  of  abiding  interest,  and  he 
has  thus  contributed  to  render  the  future  aims  of  our 
primary-school  system  clearer,  and  to  make  the  work 
of  his  successors  easier. 

For  example,  he  formed  from  the  first  a  just  con- 
ception of  the  duty  of  the  Inspector  in  respect  to  th 
frank  and  fearless  exposure  of  faults.     Very  early  ir 
his^official  life,  he  says : 

"An  Inspector's  first  duty  is  that  of  a  simple  and  foithful 
reporter  to  your  Lordships  ;  the  knowledge  that  imperfections 
in  a  school  have  been  occasioned,  wholly  or  in  part,  by  peculiar 
local  difficulties,  may  very  properly  restrain  him  from  recom- 
mending the  refusal  of  grants  to  that  school,  but  it  ought 
not  to  restrain  him  from  recording  the  imperfections.  It 
is  for  your  Lordships  to  decide  how  far  such  imperfections 
shall  subsequently  be  made  public ;  but  that  they  should  be 
plainly  stated  to  you  by  the  Inspector  whom  you  employ, 
there  can  be,  I  think,  no  doubt  at  all.  .  .   . 

"A  certain  system  may  exist,  and  your  Lordships  may 
offer  assistance  to  schools  established  under  it ;  but  you  have 
not  surel)^,  on  that  account,  committed  yourselves  to  a  faith 
in  its  perfect  excellence ;  you  have  not  pledged  yourselves  to 
its  ultimate  success.  The  business  of  your  Inspector  is  not 
to  make  out  a  case  for  that  system,  but  to  report  on  the  con- 
dition of  public  education  as  it  evolves  itself  under  it,  and  to 
supply  your  Lordships  and  the  nation  at  large  witli  data  for 
determining  how  far  the  system  is  successful.  If,  for  fear  of 
discouraging  voluntary  effort,  Inspectors  are  silent  respecting 


180  MATTHEW  ARNOLD 

the  deficiencies  of  schools,  respecting  the  feeble  support  given 
to  one  school,  the  imperfect  accommodations  in  another,  the 
faidty  discipline  or  instruction  in  a  tliird,  and  the  failure  of 
all  alike  to  embrace  the  jxjorest  class  of  children,  — if  every- 
thing is  represented  as  hopeful  and  prosperous,  lest  a  mana- 
ger should  be  disappointed  or  a  subscriber  estranged,  —  then 
a  delusion  is  prolonged  in  the  public  mind  as  to  the  real 
character  of  the  present  state  of  things,  a  delusion  which  it 
is  tlie  very  object  of  a  system  of  public  inspection  exercised 
by  agents  of  the  Government  on  behalf  of  the  country  at 
large  to  dispel  and  remove.  .  .  . 

"It  is  an  ungrateful  task  to  seem  to  deprecate,  under  any 
circumstances,  consideration  and  indulgence.  But  consiil- 
eration  and  indulgence,  the  virtues  of  the  private  man,  may 
easily  become  the  vices  of  the  public  servant."  ' 

Lest,  however,  the  teachers  should  think  his  criti- 
cisms implied  harshness  or  want  of  sympathy,  he 
added : 

"  No  one  feels  more  than  I  do  how  laborious  is  tlieir  work, 
how  trying  at  times  to  the  health  and  spirits,  how  full  of 
difficulty  even  for  the  best ;  how  much  fuller  for  those,  whom 
I  too  often  see  attempting  the  work  of  a  schoolmaster,  men 
of  weak  health  and  studious  habits,  who  betake  tliemselves 
to  this  profession  as  affording  the  means  to  continue  their 
favourite  pursuits.  .  .  .  Still,  the  quantity  of  work  actually 
done  at  present  by  teachers  is  immense ;  the  sincerity  and 
devotedness  of  much  of  it  is  even  affecting  ;  they  themselves 
will  be  the  greatest  gainers  by  a  system  of  reporting  which 
clearly  states  what  they  do,  and  what  they  fail  to  do,  not 
one  which  drowns  alike  success  and  failure,  the  able  and  the 
inefficient,  in  a  common  flood  of  vague  approbation." 

His  conception  of  the  Inspector's  duty  caused  liini, 
as  we  have  already  said,  to  view  with  extroino  dis- 

1  Report  to  the  Coiniiiittee  of  Council,  1S54. 


INSPECTION   AND   EXAMINATION  181 

favour  tliat  change  in  the  character  of  school  examiua- 
tioiis  which  was  a  necessary  sequel  to  the  llevised 
Code.  He  thought  that  the  adoption  of  a  lower  and 
less  intelligent  standard  of  excellence  in  the  schools 
implied  and  rendered  necessary  a  lowering  in  the 
Inspector's  office,  and  he  thus  contrasted  the  older 
system,  which  estimated  the  work  of  a  school  by 
inspection,  with  the  newer  system  of  formal  indi- 
vidual examination. 

"  Inspection  under  the  old  system  meant  something  like 
the  following:  The  Inspector  took  a  school  class  by  class. 
He  seldom  heard  each  child  in  a  class  read,  but  he  called  out 
a  certain  number  to  read,  picked  at  random,  as  specimens  of 
the  rest;  and  when  this  was  done  he  questioned  the  class 
with  freedom,  and  in  his  own  way,  on  the  subjects  of  their 
instruction.  As  you  got  near  the  top  of  a  good  school,  these 
subjects  became  more  numerous ;  they  embraced  English 
grammar,  geography,  and  history,  for  each  of  which  the 
Inspector's  report  contained  a  special  entry,  and  the  exami- 
nation then  often  acquired  much  variety  and  interest.  The 
whole  life  and  power  of  a  class,  the  fitness  of  its  composition, 
its  handling  by  the  teacher,  were  well  tested;  the  Inspector 
became  well  acquainted  with  them,  and  was  enabled  to  make 
his  remarks  on  them  to  the  head  teacher,  and  a  powerful 
means  of  correcting,  improving,  and  stimulating  them  was 
thus  given.  .  .   . 

"  The  new  examination  groups  the  cliildren  by  its  stand- 
ards, not  by  their  classes;  and  however  much  we  may  strive 
to  make  the  standards  correspond  with  the  classes,  we  can- 
not make  them  correspond  at  all  exactly.  The  examiner, 
therefore,  does  not  take  the  children  in  their  own  classes. 
The  life  and  power  of  each  class,  as  a  whole,  the  fitness  of 
its  composition,  its  handling  by  the  teacher,  he  therefore  does 


182  MATTHKW   AKN'oi.D 

not  test.  He  hoars  every  child  in  the  groups  before  him 
read,  and  so  far  his  examination  is  more  complete  than  the 
old  inspection.  But  he  does  not  question  them;  he  does 
not,  as  an  examiner  under  the  rule  of  the  six  standards,  go 
beyond  the  three  matters,  —  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic, 

—  and  the  amount  of  tliese  three  matters  which  the  standards 
themselves  prescribe.  Indeed,  the  entries  for  grammar,  geog- 
raphy, and  history  have  now  altogether  disappeared  from  the 
forms  of  report  furnished  to  the  Inspector.  Tlie  nearer, 
therefore,  he  gets  to  the  top  of  the  school,  the  more  does  his 
examination  in  itself  become  an  inadequate  means  of  testing 
the  real  attainments  and  intellectual  life  of  the  scholars 
before  him.  Boys  who  have  mastered  vulgar  fractions 
and  decimals,  who  know  something  of  physical  science  and 
geometry,  a  good  deal  of  English  grammar,  of  geograpliy,  and 
history,  he  hears  read  a  paragraph,  he  sees  write  a  paragraph, 
and  work  a  couple  of  easy  sums  in  the  compound  rules  or 
practice.     As  a  stimulus  to  the  intellectual  life  of  the  school 

—  and  the  intellectual  life  of  a  school  is  the  intellectual  life 
of  its  higher  classes  —  this  is  as  inefficient  as  if  Dr.  Temple, 
when  he  goes  to  inspect  his  fifth  form  at  Rugby,  were  just 
to  hear  each  boy  construe  a  sentence  of  delectus,  conjugate 
one  Latin  verb,  and  decline  two  Greek  substantives.  .  .  . 
The  whole  school  felt,  under  the  old  sj'stem,  that  the  prime 
aim  and  object  of  the  Inspector's  visit  was,  after  insuring  the 
fulfilment  of  certain  sanitary  and  disciplinary  condition-s,  to 
test  and  quicken  the  intellectual  life  of  the  sciiool.  The 
scholars'  thoughts  were  directed  to  this  object,  the  teachers' 
thoughts  were  directed  to  it,  the  Inspectors'  thoughts  were 
directed  to  it.  .  .  .  The  new  examination  is  in  itself  a  less 
exhausting  business  than  the  old  inspection  to  the  pei-son 
conducting  it,  and  it  does  not  make  a  call  as  that  did  upon 
his  spirit  and  inventiveness ;  but  it  takes  up  much  more  time, 
it  throws  upon  him  a  mass  of  minute  detail,  and  severely 
tasks  hand  and  eye  to  avoid  mistakes.'"' 

1  General  Report  for  lS(i3. 


FORMATIVE   STUDIES  183 

Arnold  always  insisted  on  the  neeessit}'  of  including 
in  the  course  of  even  the  elementary  school  some 
ingredients  which,  though  they  might  have  no  visible 
and  immediate  bearing  on  the  industrial  career  of  the 
pupil,  were  what  he  called  "formative."  "Sewing, 
calculating,  writing,  spelling,"  he  said,  "are  neces- 
sary; they  have  utility,  but  they  are  not  formative. 
To  have  the  power  of  reading  is  not  in  itself  for- 
mative." Hence  he  urged  the  importance  of  better 
reading-books.  He  admitted  that  for  the  mere  attain- 
ment of  the  mechanical  art  of  reading,  the  common 
reading-book,  with  its  promiscuous  variety  of  con- 
tents, was  well  enough.  But  as  literature,  as  means 
of  forming  the  taste  and  judgment  of  the  pupil, 
they  were  contemptible.  He  had  a  special  horror 
of  that  "somewhat  terrible  character,  the  scientific  '' 
educator,"  who  wanted  to  make  school  reading-books 
the  vehicles  for  imparting  stores  of  scientific,  geo- 
graphical, and  other  information.  "  Good  poetry,  , 
however,"  he  said,  "is  formative;  it  has,  too,  the 
precious  power  of  acting  by  itself  and  in  a  way 
suggested  by  nature."  Hence  he  always  nrged  the 
importance  of  learning  choice  extracts  of  poetry. 
Learning  by  heart  is  often  called  disparagingly 
learning  by  rote,  and  is  treated  as  an  old-fash- 
ioned, unintelligent  exercise  and  a  waste  of  time. 
But  he  attached  great  value  to  this  exercise. 

"  I  believe  that  even  the  rhythm  and  diction  of  good 
poetry  are  capable  of  exercising  some  formative  effect,  even 
though  the  sense  be  imperfectly  understood.  But  of  course 
the  good  of  poetry  is  not  really  got  unless  the  sense  of  the 


184  MA'ITIIKW    ARNOLD 

words  is  thoroughly  U-arnt  and  known.  Thus  we  are  reme- 
dying what  I  have  noticed  as  the  signal  mental  defect  of 
our  school  children  —  their  almost  incredible  scantiness  of 
vocabulary."  ^ 

Even  this  counsel  of  perfection  was  capable,  as  he 
afterwards  found,  of  being  interpreted  in  an  unsat- 
isfactory w^ay.  Fragments  of  long  poems,  such  as 
Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake,  and  other  narratives,  were 
often  selected,  and  as  these  fragments  had  no  unity 
of  their  own,  and  were  learned  by  those  who  had 
never  read  the  poems  as  a  whole,  the  acquisition 
appeared  to  him  to  be  very  worthless.  The  ex- 
perience of  one  of  our  colleagues,  who  reported 
that  on  asking  the  children  of  an  upper  class, 
"Who  Shakespeare  was,"  he  received  for  answer  that 
he  was  a  writer  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth  and  the 
author  of  two  works,  Hubert  and  Arthur  and  the 
Trial  Scene  at  Venice,  illustrates  w^ell  the  mischievous 
effect  of  the  common  practice  in  dealing  with  frag- 
ments of  great  literary  masterpieces.  He  always 
urged  tliat  scholars  who  offered  to  recite  one  or  two 
hundred  lines  sliould  be  made  to  show  that  they 
knew  sometliing  about  the  contents  of  the  poem  of 
which  the  extract  formed  a  part,  and  should  at  least 
have  read  it  throtigh  as  a  whole,  and  seen  tlie  rela- 
tion in  which  that  extract  stood  to  the  rest.  He 
then  lays  down  the  conditions  which  should  be  ob- 
served in  the  selection  of  passages  f<ir  the  mrmoriter 
exercise. 

1  lieiwrt  for  1878. 


GliAMMAK    IN    THE    ELEMP:NTARY    SCHOOL     185 

"  That  the  poetry  chosen  should  have  real  beauties  of 
expression  and  feeling,  that  these  beauties  should  be  such 
as  the  children's  hearts  and  minds  can  lay  hold  of,  and  that 
a  distinct  point  or  centre  of  beauty  and  interest  should  occur 
■within  the  limits  of  the  passage  learned  —  all  these  are  con- 
ditions to  be  insisted  on.  Some  of  the  short  pieces  by  Mrs. 
Hemans,  such  as  The  Graves  of  a  Household,  The  Homes  of 
England,  The  Better  Land,  are  to  be  recommended  because 
they  fulfil  all  three  conditions ;  they  have  real  merits  of 
expi'ession  and  -sentiment ;  the  merits  are  such  as  the  chil- 
dren can  feel,  and  the  centre  of  interest,  these  pieces  being 
so  short,  necessarily  occurs  within  the  limits  of  what  is 
learnt.  ■  On  the  other  hand,  in  extracts  taken  from  Scott  or 
Shakespeare,  the  point  of  interest  is  not  often  reached 
within  the  hundred  lines  which  is  all  that  childriu  in  the 
Fourth  Standard  learn."  ^ 

Of  the  claims  of  grammar  to  be  included,  even  in 
an  elementary  scliool  course,  lie  says : 

"  I  attach  great  importance  to  grammar,  as  leading  the 

children  to  reflect  and  reason,  as  a  veiy  simple  sort  of  logic, 

more  effective  than  arithmetic  as  a  logical  training,  because 

it  operates  with  concretes  or  words  instead  of  with  abstracts 

or  figures.  .  .  .      Parsing  is  the  very  best  portion  of  the 

discipline  of  grammar,  and  it  is  not  too  hard  for  Fourth 

Standard  children  if  it  is  taught  judiciously.     The  analytic 

character  of  our  language  enables  a   teacher  to   bring  its 

grammar  more  easily  within  a  child's  reach  ;  and  advantage 

should  be  taken  of  this  analytic  character,  instead  of  teaching 

English  grammar,  as  was  the  old  plan,  with  a  machinery 

borrowed  from  the  grammar  of  synthetic  languages.     I  am 

glad  to  observe  that  in  the  instruction  of  pupil  teachers,  the 

analytic  method  of  parsing  is  coming  into  use  more  and 

more.  .  .   . 

1  Report  for  1880. 


186  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  the  contempt  with 
which  what  is  even  now  effected  in  grammar  in  our  schools 
is  regarded.  The  grammar  required  for  the  lower  standards 
is  spoken  of  as  quite  ridiculously  insufficient.  Yet,  is  it  so 
insignificant  a  mental  exercise  to  distinguish  between  the 
use  of  xhelter  in  these  two  phrases,  '  to  shelter  under  an 
umbrella,'  and  *  to  take  shelter  under  an  umbrella '  ?  I  do 
not  think  so ;  and  this  is  the  sort  of  elementary  logic  which 
the  grammar  for  the  Second  Standard  demands,  which  the 
children  attain  to,  and  which  does  them,  in  my  opinion,  a 
great  deal  of  good."  ' 

It  is  the  belief  of  some  modern  writers  that  Latin  and 
French  are  subjects  of  secondary  and  higher  instruc- 
tion only,  and  that  any  attempt  to  include  them  in  the 
primary  course  is  an  encroachment  on  the  proper  prov- 
ince of  the  intermediate  or  higher  school.  That  was 
not  Arnold's  opinion.  He  thought  that  the  rudiments 
of  one  of  those  languages,  at  least,  might  with  advan- 
tage be  taught  to  the  more  advanced  scholars  even  in 
the  elementary  school,  as  a  preparation  for  the  right 
use  of  any  further  educational  opportunities  they  might 
enjoy  after  leaving  that  school.  And  even  if  no  such 
opportunity  occurred,  he  deemed  it  essential  that  the 
scholar  should  at  least  be  made  aware  that  there  were 
other  languages  than  his  own,  and  should  find  what 
Bacon  calls  an  "entrance"  into  one  of  them. 

"Every  one  is  agreed  as  to  the  exceptional  position  of 
Latin  among  the  languages  for  our  study.  Our  school-boy 
of  thirteen  will  do  little  with  his  rudiments  of  Latin  unless 
he  carries  on  his  education  beyond  the  scope  of  our  ele- 
mentary schools  and  their  prograunnes.  Hut,  if  he  does 
cany  it  on  hi yniid  that  sc()i)e,  Latin  is  almost  a  necessity 
1  Kciiort  fur  1S78. 


ELEMENTARY   LATIN  AND   FRENCH  187 

for  him.  By  allowing  Latin  as  a  special  subject  for  a  cer- 
tain number  of  scholars  in  our  elementary  schools,  we  are 
but  recognizing  that  necessity,  and  recognizing,  as  surely  we ; 
very  properly  may,  that  for  some  of  the  better  scholars  in 
our  schools  the  necessity  will  arise.  French,  too,  has  a 
special  claim.  To  know  the  rudiments  of  French  has  a  com- 
mercial value.  A  boy  who  is  possessed  of  them  has  an 
advantage  in  getting  a  place.  He  knows  this  himself,  and 
his  parents  know  it ;  a  little  French  in  addition  to  good 
attainments  in  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  is  a  recom- 
mendation for  a  place.  A  little  Latin  is  not,  a  little  Ger- 
man is  not,  a  little  botany  is  not ;  a  little  French  is.  Here 
is  a  reason  for  admitting  French  to  our  list  of  extra  subjects, 
closely  limited  though  this  list  ought  to  be.  French  has 
the  educational  value  for  our  school  children  of  being  a 
second  language;  it  has  also  an  educational  value  for  us 
from  its  precision  and  lucidity  —  qualities  in  which  the  ex- 
pression of  us  English  peofjle  is  often  deficient ;  and  it  is, 
besides,  a  matter  of  instruction  which  has  the  advantage  of 
much  commending  itself  to  the  minds  of  our  scholars  them- 
selves and  of  their  parents  as  a  help  to  a  boy's  start  in  life." 

Althongli  Arnold  thoiigbt  the  demands  made  for 
more  of  science  teaching  in  schools  were  being  unduly 
pressed,  he  recognized  the  need  of  such  teaching 
within  certain  limits.  He  thought  that  the  inclusion 
of  mathematics,  animal  physiology,  physical  geog- 
raphy, and  botany  in  the  list  of  optional  specific  sub- 
jects for  the  primary  school  was  a  mistake.  But 
what  the  Germans  called  Naturkunde,  and  Professor 
Huxley  called  Physiography,  —  an  elementary  know- 
ledge of  the  facts  and  laws  of  nature, —  appeared  to 
him  a  necessary  ingredient  in  the  primary-school 
course.     For  children  of  thirteen,  he  thought  it  pre- 


188  MATTHKW    AKNOLl) 

mature  to  enter  upon  the  technicalities  of   specific 
sciences. 

"  The  excuse  for  putting  most  of  these  matters  into  our 
programme  is  tliat  we  arc  all  coming  to  be  agreed  that  an 
entire  ignorance  of  the  system  of  nature  is  as  gross  a  defect 
in  our  children's  education  as  not  to  know  that  there  evc-r 
was  such  a  person  as  Charles  the  First.  .  .  .  "We  ought 
surely  to  provide  that  some  knowledge  of  the  system  of 
nature  should  form  part  of  the  regular  class  course.  Some 
fragments  of  such  knowledge  do  in  practice  form  part  of  the 
class  course  at  present.  Children  in  learning  geography  are 
taught  something  about  the  form  and  motion  of  tiie  earth, 
about  the  causes  of  night  and  day,  and  the  seasons.  But 
why  are  they  taught  nothing  of  the  causes,  for  instance,  of 
rain  and  dew,  which  are,  at  least,  as  easy  to  explain  to  them, 
and  not  less  interesting  1  And  this  is  what  the  teaching  of 
A^aturkunde,  or  natural  philosophy  (to  use  the  formerly 
received,  somewhat  over-ambitious  English  name  for  the 
same  thing),  should  aim  at ;  it  should  aim  at  systematiz- 
ing for  the  use  of  our  schools  a  body  of  simple  instruction  in 
the  facts  and  laws  of  nature,  so  as  to  omit  nothing  which  is 
requisite,  and  to  give  all  in  right  proportion.  Of  course  the 
best  agency  for  effecting  this  would  be  a  gifted  teacher ;  but 
as  gifted  teachers  are  rare,  what  we  have  most  to  wish  for 
is  the  guidance  of  a  good  text-book.  Such  a  text-book  does 
not  at  present,  so  far  as  I  know,  exist ;  some  man  of  science, 
who  is  also  a  master  of  clear  and  orderly  exposition,  should 
do  us  the  benefit  of  providing  one.  But,  meanwhile,  there  is 
no  reason  for  delaying  the  attempt  to  teach  in  a  systematic 
way  an  elementary  knowledge  of  nature.  Tcxt-bot)ks  alx)und 
from  which  a  teacher  may  obtain  in  separate  portions  what  he 
requires ;  there  can  be  no  better  discipline  for  him  than  to 
combine  out  of  what  he  finds  in  them  the  kind  of  wliole 
suited  to  the  siiii])le  rcciuircuu'uts  of  his  classes.  Some 
teachers  will  do  tliis  a  great  dial  brttiT  than  others,  but  all 


ELEMENTARY   SCIENCE   IN   SCHOOLS  18a 

will  gain  something  by  attemjiting  it ;  and  their  classes, 
too,  however  imperfectly  it  is  at  first  often  eftected,  will 
gain  by  its  being  attempted."  ^ 

What  liis  view  was  about  the  degree  of  formative  ^ ' 
influence  which  was  to  be  expected  from  the  study  of 
jihysical  science,  apart  from  general  mental  cultiva- 
tion in  the  humanities,  may  be  well  illustrated  by 
the  playful  comments  which  occurred  to  him  once 
when  fresh  from  the  perusal  of  a  number  of  examina- 
tion papers  which  had  been  sent  to  candidates  for  the 
oihce  of  teacher,  and  had  included  inter  alia  some 
questions  on  the  play  of  Macbeth. 

"At  last  year's  meeting  of  the  British  Association,  the 
President  of  the  Section  for  Mechanical  Science  told  his 
hearers  that  in  such  communities  as  ours,  the  spread  of 
natural  science  is  of  far  more  immediate  urgency  than  any 
other  secondary  study.  '  Whatever  else  he  may  know,  viewed 
in  the  light  of  modern  necessities,  a  man  who  is  not  fairly 
versed  in  exact  science  is  only  a  half-educated  man,  and 
if  he  has  substituted  literature  and  history  for  natural 
science,  he  has  chosen  the  less  useful  alternative.'  And 
more  and  more  pressure  there  will  be,  especially  in  the 
instruction  of  the  children  of  the  working  classes,  whose 
time  for  schooling  is  short,  to  substitute  natural  science  for 
literature  and  history  as  the  more  useful  alternative.  And 
what  a  curious  state  of  things  it  would  be  if  every  scholar 
who  had  passed  through  the  course  of  our  primary  schools 
knew  that  when  a  taper  burns,  the  wax  is  converted  into 
carbonic  acid  and  water,  and  thought,  at  the  same  time  that 
a  good  paraphrase  of  Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind 
diseased?  was,  Can  you  not  wait  upon  the  lunatic?     The 

1  R  -port  for  1378. 


190  MATTHEW   AKXOIJ) 

problem  to  be  solveil  is  a  great  <lcal  more  complicated  than 
many  of  the  fricmls  of  natural  science  suppose.  They  see 
clearly  enough,  for  instance,  how  the  working  classes  are,  in 
their  ignorance,  constantly  violating  the  laws  of  health,  and 
suffering  accordingly ;  ami  they  look  to  a  spread  of  sound 
natural  science  as  the  remedy.  What  they  do  not  see  is 
that  to  know  the  laws  of  health  ever  so  exactly,  as  a  mere 
piece  of  positive  knowledge,  will  carry  a  man,  in  general,  no 
great  way.  To  have  the  power  of  using,  which  is  the  thing 
wished,  these  data  of  natural  science  a  man  must,  in  gen- 
eral, have  first  been  in  some  measure  vioralized ;  and  for 
moralizing  him  it  will  be  found  not  easy,  I  think,  to  dis- 
pense with  those  old  agents  —  letters,  poetry,  religion.  So  lot 
not  our  teachers  be  led  to  imagine,  whatever  they  may  hear 
and  see  of  the  call  for  natural  science,  that  their  literary 
cultivation  is  unimportant.  The  fruitful  use  of  natural 
science  itself  depends,  in  a  very  great  degree,  on  having 
effected  in  tlic  whole  man,  by  means  of  letters,  a  rise  in 
wliat  the  political  economists  call  the  standard  of  life."  ' 

Thus  it  is  because  the  study  of  material  facts  and 
laws  does  not  necessarily  carry  the  student  into  any 
region  beyond  that  study  itself,  and  because  the 
hvimanei'  studies  can  shed  a  light  on  everything  else 
which  is  to  become  a  subject  of  investigation  and 
thought,  that  Arnold  always  insisted  on  the  sujieri- 
ority  of  the  latter  studies  to  the  former,  as  instruments 
for  the  formation  of  character  and  the  regulation  of 
life. 

It  is  observable  that  for  the  fulliluu^ut  of  his  own 
ideal,  and  for  stimulating  fresher  and  healthier  intel- 
ligence in  place  of  routine  and  mechanism,  he  was  not 

J  i;fp..rl  for  1S7H. 


HIS   DISTRUST   OF   PEDAGOGIC   EULES  191 

disposed  to  rely  much  on  the  scientific  study  of  the 
theory  of  education.  Books  on  pedagogy  bored  him, 
and  he  had  a  suspicion  that  when  relied  on  too  much, 
they  were  apt  to  beget  a  formalism  of  their  own. 

"How,"  he  asks,  "is  a  sensible  teacher  likely  to  effect 
most  practical  good?  Is  it  by  betaking  himself  to  the 
scientific  teachers  of  pedagogy,  by  feeding  on  generalities, 
by  learning  that  we  are  to  '  disuse  rule-teaching,  and  adopt 
teaching  by  principles,'  that  we  are  to  teach  things  'in  the 
concrete  instead  of  in  the  abstract,'  that  we  are  to  walk 
worthy  of  the  doctrine  long  ago  enunciated  by  Pestalozzi, 
that  'alike  in  its  order  and  its  methods  education  nuist 
conform  to  the  natural  process  of  mental  evolution  '  ? 

"  The  worst  of  such  doctrines  is  that  everything  depends 
upon  the  practical  application  given  to  them,  and  it  seems 
so  easy  to  give  a  practical  application  which  is  erroneous. 
The  doctrine  of  Pestalozzi,  for  instance,  may  be  excellent,  and 
none  can  say  that  it  has  not  found  ardent  friends  to  accept 
it  and  employ  it ;  and  the  result  is  that  one  sees  a  teacher 
holding  up  an  apple  to  a  gallery  of  little  c4iildren,  and  say- 
ing, '  An  apple  has  a  stalk,  peel,  pulp,  core,  pips,  and  juice ; 
it  is  odorous  and  opaque,  and  is  used  for  making  a  pleasant 
drink  called  cider.'  In  virtue  of  like  theories  new  methods 
of  spelling,  new  methods  of  learning  to  read,  new  methods 
of  learning  arithmetic  are  called  for.  Some  of  them  are 
ingenious.  We  must  always  remember,  however,  that  their 
apparent  conformity  to  some  general  doctrine,  apparently 
true,  is  no  guarantee  of  their  soundness.  The  practical 
application  alone  tests  this,  and  often  and  often  a  method 
thus  tested  reveals  unsuspected  weakness.  Then  there  is, 
besides  the  difficulty  of  getting  new  methods  which  are 
unfiimiliar  substituted  for  olil  methods  which  are  familiar."' 

And  in  summing  up  the  aims  and  scope  of  the 
elementary  school  of  the  future,  he  says : 


192  MATTHKW   AKXOM) 

"  The  best  thing  for  a  teacher  to  do  is  surely  to  put  before 
himself,  in  the  utmost  simplicity,  the  problem  iie  has  to 
solve.  He  has  to  instruct  children  between  the  ages  of  four 
and  thirteen  ;  cliildren,  too,  who  have  for  the  most  part  a 
singularly  narrow  range  of  words  and  thoughts.  He  has,  so 
far  as  secular  instruction  goes,  to  give  to  those  children  the 
power  of  reading,  of  writing,  ami  (according  to  the  good  old 
phrase)  of  casting  accounts.  He  has  to  give  them  some 
knowledge  of  the  world  in  which  they  find  themselves,  and 
of  what  happens  and  has  happened  in  it ;  some  knowledge, 
that  is,  of  the  great  facts  and  laws  of  nature,  some  know- 
ledge of  geography  and  of  history,  above  all,  of  the  history  of 
their  own  country.  He  has  to  do  as  much  towards  opening 
their  mind,  and  opening  their  soul  and  imagination,  as  is 
possible  to  be  done  with  a  number  of  children  of  their  age, 
and  in  their  state  of  preparation  and  home  surrountlings."  ' 

That  this  last  duty  of  opening  the  soul  and  the 
imagination  could  not  be  performed  by  mere  hirelings 
and  pedants,  but  needed  to  be  entrusted  to  persons 
who  regarded  their  own  personal  cultivation  as  one  of 
the  chief  duties  of  their  office,  was  a  constant  theme 
on  which  he  insisted,  in  conversations  with  teachers 
as  well  as  in  official  reports:  "The  teacher  will  open 
the  children's  soul  and  imagination  the  better,  the 
more  he  has  opened  his  own;  so  he  will  also  clear 
their  understanding  the  better,  the  more  he  has 
cleared  his  own."  With  this  principle  in  view, 
Arnold  never  lost  an  oj^portunity  of  urging  on  the 
younger  teachers  the  need  of  more  thought  and  liter- 
ary culture  than  are  represented  by  the  possession  of 
a    Government    di[)loma,   and   nothing    pleased    him 

1  Koport  Un-  1S78. 


THE   TEACHER'S   PERSONAL   CULi'I NATION     193 

better  tlian  to  give  special  encourag-einent  and  sym- 
pathy to  tliose  teachers  in  his  district  who,  after 
obtaining  their  legal  certificate,  intended  to  graduate 
at  the  London  University,  or  were  otherwise  making 
eiiorts  after  self-improvement. 

"  It  is  among  the  teachers  that  the  desire  for  a  better  cult- 
ure, and  the  attainment  of  it,  most  shows  itself.  It  shows 
itself  in  those  in  my  district  by  more  and  more  numerous 
efforts  to  pass  the  examinations  which  the  London  University, 
with  a  wise  liberahty,  makes  accessible  to  so  large  and  various 
a  class  of  candidates.  I  gladly  seize  every  opportunity  to  ex- 
press the  satisfaction  which  the  sight  of  these  efforts  gives  me. 
To  the  able,  the  anient,  and  the  aspiring  among  tlie  young 
teachers  of  schools  under  my  inspection,  I  say:  'Your  true  way 
of  advancing  yourselves,  of  raising  your  position,  of  keeping 
yourselves  alive  an<l  alert  amidst  your  trying  kbours,  is  there.' 
And  the  more  the  Government  certificate  comes  to  be  regarded 
as  a  mere  indispensable  guarantee  of  competency,  not  as  a 
literary  distinction,  the  better  ;  literary  distinction  should  be 
sought  for  from  other  and  larger  sources.  .  .  .  The  rate 
of  general  intelligence  in  schools  and  pupil  teachers  depends 
mainly,  of  course,  upon  the  rate  of  general  intelhgence  in  the 
head-teachers.  Tliis  will  depend  upon  their  continuing  and 
exteufhng  the  cultivation  with  which  they  have  started.  In 
no  way  can  they  so  well  do  this  as  by  working  for  a  definite 
object,  which  will  give  them  matters  of  study  definite  and, 
on  the  wdiole,  well  chosen.  The  schoolmasters  of  my  dis- 
trict know  how  I  have  always  encouraged  them  to  try  the 
matriculation  examination  at  the  London  University.^ .  .  . 
I  believe  that  the  languages  now  required  for  matriculation 
are  Latin  and  French,  wdth  a  third  language,  which  may  be 
either  German  or  Greek.  Latin,  French,  and  German  are 
an  excellent,  and  by  no  means  over-difficult,  study  for  our 
young  schoolmasters,  and  the  rest  of  the  examination  will 
1  Reports  for  1803  and  1874. 


104  MATTHEW   AKNOLl) 

present  nothing  but  what  is  comparatively  easy  to  tliem.  It 
is  ray  strong  hope  tliut  it  will  soon  become  the  rule  for  every 
young  schoolmaster  in  my  district  to  matriculate  at  the  Lou- 
don University." 

In  regard  to  religious  instruction,  Matthew  Arnold 
desired  to  apply  to  the  elementary  school  principles 
of  action  very  nearly  akin  to  those  which  his  father 
had  exemplified  at  Rugby  and  had  advocated  in 
regard  to  popular  literature.  He  knew  well  that  the 
best  religious  influences  are  not  those  which  are 
produced  by  the  compulsory  enforcement  of  theologi- 
cal dogmas  upon  young  children.  Hence  he  had  no 
S3' mpathy  with  those  of  the  clergy  and  the  support- 
ers of  denominational  schools  wlio  tliink  all  religious 
training  impossible  without  the  teaching  of  creeds  and 
catechisms,  and  the  enforcement  of  the  distinctive  ten- 
ets of  their  respective  sects  in  the  common  scliools. 
Yet  he  attached  high  value,  on  intellectual  as  well  as 
on  moral  and  religious  grounds,  to  the  teaching  of  the 
Bible  in  such  schools.  He  regretted  that  the  state 
of  religious  controversy,  and  the  rivalries  of  hostile 
sects,  made  it  necessary  for  the  authors  of  the  Etlu- 
cation  Act  to  exclude  the  subject  of  religious  in- 
struction from  the  purview  of  the  official  inspectors 
altogether.  He  thought  that  in  this  way  there  was 
grave  danger  lest  the  Biblical  teaching  might  suiTor 
neglect. 

"Let  the  school  managers,"  lie  said,  "make  the  main  out- 
lines of  Bible  history,  and  the  getting  by  heart  a  selection  of 
the  finest  Psalms,  the  most  interesting  passages  from  the  his- 
tori(;al  and  projjhetical  books  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  the 


UXSECTARIAX    RELIGIOUS   TEACHING  195 

chief  parables,  discourses,  and  exhortations  of  the  Xew,  a 
part  of  the  regular  scliool  work,  to  be  submitted  to  inspec- 
tion and  to  be  seen  in  its  strength  or  weakness  like  any 
other.  This  could  raise  no  jealousies;  or,  if  it  still  raises 
some,  let  a  sacrifice  be  made  for  them  for  the  sake  of  the 
end  in  view.  Some  will  say  that  what  we  propose  is  but  a 
small  use  to  put  the  Bible  to :  yet  it  is  that  on  which  all 
higher  use  of  the  Bible  is  to  be  built,  and  its  adoption  is  the 
only  chance  for  saving  the  one  elevating  and  inspiring  element 
in  the  scanty  instruction  of  our  primary  schools  from  being 
sacrificed  to  a  politico-religious  difficulty.  There  was  no 
Greek  school  in  which  Homer  was  not  read ;  cannot  our  popu- 
lar schools,  with  their  narrow  range  and  their  jejune  alimen- 
tation in  secular  literature,  do  as  much  for  the  Bible  as  the 
Greek  schools  did  for  Homer?"  ^ 

With  a  view  to  illustrate  Lis  own  conception  of  the 
purpose  which  the  study  of  the  Bible  might  serve, 
merely  as  an  instrument  of  intellectual  culture,  Arnold, 
wrote,  in  1872,  a  little  book  which  he  called,  a  Bible 
reading  for  schools.  It  consisted  of  the  last  twenty- 
seven  chapters  of  Isaiah,  and  was  annotated  and. 
explained  under  the  title  of  The  Great  Prophecy  of 
Israel's  Restoration.     In  the  preface  he  says: 

"  Why  is  this  attempt  made  ?  It  is  made  because  of  my 
conviction  of  the  immense  importance  in  education  of  what 
is  called  letters ;  of  the  side  which  engages  our  feelings  and 
imagination.  Science,  the  side  which  engages  our  faculty 
of  exact  knowledge,  may  have  been  too  much  neglected ; 
more  particuhirly  this  may  have  been  so  as  regards  our 
knowledge  of  nature.  This  is  probably  true  of  our  second- 
ary schools  and  Universities.  But  on  our  schools  for  the 
people  (by  this  good  German  name  let  us  call  them,  to  mark 

1  Report  for  1869. 


196  MATTIIKW    AUNdLD 

the  overwlielmingly  preponderant  sliare  which  falls  to  them 
ill  the  work  of  national  education)  the  power  of  letters  has 
hardly  been  brought  to  bear  at  all ;  certainly  it  has  not  been 
brought  to  bear  in  excess,  as  compared  with  the  power  of  the 
natural  sciences.  And  now,  perhaps,  it  is  less  likely  than 
ever  to  be  brought  to  bear.  The  natural  sciences  are  in  high 
favour;  it  is  felt  that  they  have  been  unduly  neglected,  they 
have  gifted  and  brilliant  men  for  their  advocates,  schools  for 
the  people  offer  some  special  facilities  for  introducing  them ; 
on  the  other  hand,  the  Bible,  which  would  naturally  be  the 
great  vehicle  for  conveying  the  power  of  letters  into  these 
schools,  is  withdrawn  from  the  list  of  matters  with  which 
Government  inspection  concerns  itself,  and,  so  far,  from 
attention."  ^ 

And  be  proceeds  to  show  that  from  the  uature  of 
the  subject  good  text-books  are  more  common  and 
more  possible  in  science  than  in  literature,  and  that 
in  classical  schools  the  literary  interest  is  cultivated 
by  Greek  and  Roman  learning,  while  in  elementary 
schools  there  was  nothing  analogous  to  it. 

"  Only  one  literature  there  is,  one  great  literature  for  which 
the  people  have  had  a  preparation  —  the  literature  of  the 
Bible.  However  far  they  may  be  from  having  a  complete 
preparation  for  it,  they  have  some ;  and  it  is  the  only  great 
literature  for  whidi  they  have  any.  Their  bringing  up,  what 
they  have  heard  and  talked  of  ever  since  they  were  born, 
have  given  them  no  sort  of  conversance  with  the  forms, 
fashions,  notions,  wordings,  allusions  of  literature  having 
its  source  in  Greece  and  Rome ;  but  they  have  given  them 
a  good  deal  of  conversance  with  the  forms,  fashions,  notions, 
wordings,  allusions  of  the  Bible.  Zion  and  Babylon  are 
their  Atliens  and  Rome,  their  Ida  and  Olympus  are  Tabor 

1  Bible  Rtadingfoj'  Schools,  i>.  (J. 


THE    BII5LE    IN   THE   SCHOOL  197 

and  Hermon,  Sharon  is  their  Tempe;  these  and  the  like 
Bible  names  can  reach  their  imagination,  kindle  trains  of 
thought  and  remembrance  in  them.  The  elements  with 
which  the  literature  of  Greece  and  Rome  conjures,  have  no 
power  on  them;  the  elements  with  which  the  literature  of 
the  Bible  conjures,  have.  Therefore  I  have  so  often  insisted, 
in  reports  to  the  Education  Department,  on  the  need,  if 
from  this  point  of  view  only,  for  the  Bible  in  schools  for  the 
people.  If  poetry,  philosophy,  and  eloquence,  if  what  we 
call  in  one  word  letters,  are  a  power  and  a  beneficent  wonder- 
working power  in  education,  through  the  Bible  only  have  the 
people  much  chance  of  getting  at  poetry,  philosophy,  and 
eloquence.  Perhaps  I  may  here  quote  what  I  have  at  former 
times  said :  '  Chords  of  power  are  touched  by  this  instruction 
which  no  other  part  of  the  instruction  in  a  popular  school 
reaches,  and  chords  various,  not  the  single  religious  chord 
only.'  The  Bible  is  for  the  child  in  an  elementary  school 
almost  his  only  contact  with  poetry  and  philosophy.  "What 
a  course  of  eloquence  and  poetry  (to  call  it  by  that  name 
alone)  is  the  Bible  in  a  school  which  has,  and  can  have,  but 
little  eloquence  and  poetry  !  and  how  much  do  our  elementary 
schools  lose  by  not  having  any  such  course  as  part  of  their 
school  programme  !  All  who  value  the  Bible  may  rest  assured 
that  thus  to  know  and  possess  the  Bible,  is  the  most  certain 
way  to  exteml  the  power  and  efficacy  of  the  Bible."  ^ 

In  further  vindication  of  his  choice  of  the  final 
chapters  of  the  book  of  Isaiah  as  an  exercise  for 
school  reading,  he  goes  on  to  say :  "  To  make  a  great 
work  pass  into  the  popular  mind  is  not  easy,  but  our 
series  of  chapters  have  one  quality  which  facilitates 
this  jjassage  for  them  —  their  boundless  exhilaration. 
"Much  good  poetry  is  profoundl}'  melancholy ;  now  the 


Bible  Reading  for  Schools,  p.  10. 


198  MATTHEW    ARNOLD 

life  of  the  people  is  such  that  in  literature  they 
require  joy.  If  ever  that  'good  time  coining*  for 
which  they  long,  was  presented  with  energy  and  mag- 
nificence, it  is  in  these  chapters.  It  is  impossible  to 
read  them  without  catching  its  glow.''^ 

In  a  private  letter  to  me  about  this  little  book,  he 
says,  "  It  is  the  educational  side  of  the  question  that 
I  particularly  care  for.  It  does  not  much  matter 
whether  or  no  one  thing  more  or  less  is  produced 
whicli  in  literature  is  happy  and  brilliant,  there  is 
so  much  of  this  in  literature  already;  but  whether 
the  people  get  hold  of  a  single  thing  in  high  litera- 
ture, this  point  of  education  is  of  immense  matter." 

Arnold  was  not  sanguine  in  reference  to  the  effect 
of  his  effort  to  produce  a  reading-book  for  schools, 
and  indeed  its  reception  was  very  cold,  and  I  have 
never  heard  of  a  school  in  which  tlie  book  was  used. 
There  is  something  pathetic,  however,  in  his  evident 
consciousness  that  the  effort  would  fail,  and  yet  in 
his  faitli  that  his  effort  would  bear  fruit  in  the  future. 

"  For  anyone  who  behoves  in  the  civihzing  power  of  letters, 
and  often  talks  of  tliis  behef,  to  tliink  that  he  has  for  more 
tliaii  twenty  years  got  his  living  by  inspecting  schools  for  tlie 
people,  has  gone  in  and  out  among  them,  has  seen  that  tlie 
power  of  letters  never  reaches  them  at  all,  an<l  that  the  whole 
study  of  letters  is  thereby  discrcilited,  and  its  power  called  in 
question,  and  yet  has  attempted  nothing  to  remedy  this  state 
of  things,  caimot  but  be  vexing  and  disquieting.  He  m;\\ 
truly  say,  hke  the  Israel  of  the  prophet,  'We  liuve  not 
wrought  any  deliverance  in  the  earth  ! '  and  lie  may  Wfil 
desire  to  do  something  to  pay  his  debt  to  popular  education 

1  liihlc  Roading  for  Schools,  p.  liS. 


UNFULFILLED   HOPES  199 

before  he  finally  departs,  and  to  serve  it,  if  he  can,  in  that 
point  where  its  need  is  sorest,  where  he  has  always  said  its 
need  was  sorest,  and  where,  nevertheless,  it  is  as  sore  still  as 
when  he  began  saying  this  twenty  years  ago.  Even  if  what 
he  does  cannot  be  of  service  at  once,  owing  to  special  preju- 
dices and  difficulties,  yet  these  prejudices  and  difficulties 
years  are  almost  sure  to  dissipate,  and  the  work  may  be  of 
service  hereafter."  ^ 

Whether  or  not  Arnold  succeeded  in  fulfilling  the 
official  ideal  of  a  Government  Inspector  is  a  question 
hardly  worth  discussing.  But  he  who  undertakes  his 
work  in  the  spirit  shown  in  the  extracts  here  made, 
and  has  left  behind  him  influence  so  calculated  to 
ennoble  the  primary-school  teacher,  his  work,  and 
his  aspirations,  will  ever  be  entitled  to  a  high  place 
in  the  annals  of  the  Education  Department,  as  well 
as  in  the  world  of  letters. 

1  Bible  Reading  for  Schools,  p.  12. 


CH-VrXER  X 

Matthew  Arnold's  employment  in  foreign  countries  —  The  New- 
castle Commission  of  18f)9  —  The  Schools  Inquiry  Commission  of 
18(;5  —  Special  report  to  the  Education  Department,  1885  — 
Democracy  —  Relation  of  the  State  to  voluntary  action  in  France 
and  in  England  —  Why  Germany  interested  Arnold  less  than 
France  — Advantages  of  State  action  —  The  religions  dilticulty 
in  France  —  Why  a  purely  secular  system  hecaine  inevitable  in 
tliat  country  — A  French  Eton — Comparison  with  the  English 
Eton  —  Endowment  under  French  law  —  Latin  and  Greek  as 
taught  in  French  Lycc'es  —  Entrance  scholarships  —  Leaving 
examinations  —  Instruction  in  civic  life  and  duties 

It  will  be  seen  from  ^NFattliew  Arnold's  letters 
passim,  how  much  he  enjoyed  occasional  opportuni- 
ties of  employment  in  foreign  countries.  Three  such 
opportunities  came  to  him  in  the  course  of  his  official 
life,  and  were  especially  welcome  to  him,  partly  be- 
cause he  was  enabled  by  them  to  escape  from  what 
seemed  to  him  monotonous  and  wearisome  in  his 
regular  official  duties,  and  mainly  because  inquiries 
into  foreign  systems,  and  their  relation  to  the  polity 
and  needs  and  national  character  of  the  several  coun- 
tries in  which  those  systems  were  operative,  were 
es})ecially  congenial  to  hito.  The  tirst  of  his  spe- 
cial reports  was  in  1861,  to  the  Commission  which 
was  presided  over  by  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  and 
which  had  been  charged,  in  1850,  with  the  duty  of 
inquiring  into  the  state  of  popular  education  in 
England.  The  Minutes  of  Council  of  1845  had  been 
in  full  operation  for  twelve  years  when  the  Commis- 
200 


FOREIGN   COMMISSIONS  201 

sion  was  appointed,  and  the  Government  and  the 
nation  desired  to  know  what  was  the  actual  working 
of  the  measure,  and  whether  or  not  the  State  was 
receiving  an  adequate  return  for  the  increasing  grants 
which  were  made  from  the  Treasury.  The  Commis- 
sioners; however,  wisely  resolved  that  their  inquiry 
should  not  be  restricted  to  our  own  country,  and  that 
it  would  help  them  much  to  learn  by  way  of  com- 
parison what  had  been  done  in  other  lands  which  had 
enjoyed  a  larger  experience  than  our  own  of  State 
action.  Accordingly,  Arnold  was  instructed  as  For- 
eign Assistant  Commissioner  to  inquire  and  report  in 
reference  to  the  state  of  popular  education  in  France, 
Holland,  and  Switzerland. 

The  second  occasion  on  which  he  was  detached  from 
his  ordinary  work  for  special  foreign  service  was  in 
1865,  wlien  the  Schools  Inquiry  Commission,  under 
the  chairmanship  of  Lord  Taunton,  was  charged  with 
the  duty  of  reporting  on  secondary  education  in  Eng- 
land and  "Wales.  Arnold  again  accepted  the  office  of 
Assistant  Commissioner,  and  was  instructed  to  report 
on  the  systems  of  education  of  the  middle  and  upper 
classes  in  France,  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  Italy. 

For  the  third  time  he  received,  in  November,  1885, 
a  summons  to  make  a  fcTTSgn  journey.  On  this  occa- 
sion it  was  the  Education  Department  itself  which 
gave  him.  instructions.  In  view  of  contemplated 
legislation,  the  heads  of  that  department  desired  to 
receive  more  detailed  information  from  Germany, 
Switzerland,  and  France,  on  four  specific  points, 
which    Avere    thus    indicated:    Free    education:    the 


202  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

quality  of  education;  tlie  status,  training,  and  pen- 
sioning of  teachers;  and  compulsory  attendance  and 
release  from  school. 

Of  these  three  reports,  the  first  and  second,  after 
due  publication  in  the  Blue  Books,  were  afterwards 
reprinted  as  separate  books,  the  first  under  the  title  of 
The  Popular  Education  of  France,  loith  Notices  of  that 
of  Holland  and  Switzerland;  and  the  second  under  the 
title  of  Schools  and  Universities  on  the  Continent.  The 
third  appeared  only  as  a  parliamentary  paper  in  188G. 

Many  of  the  statistical  and  other  details  of  these 
reports  are  of  temporary  interest  only,  and  much  of 
the  organization  which  he  describes  has  by  this  time 
been  modified  or  superseded.  Hence  the  narrative 
which  these  reports  furnish  —  picturesque  and  sug- 
gestive as  it  is  —  has  now  little  more  than  an  historical 
value.  But  the  experience  he  gained  in  these  memo- 
rable visits  led  him  to  consider  wider  questions  tlian 
those  which  concerned  the  administration  of  educa- 
tional bureaus,  the  work  of  schools,  and  the  suc- 
cess of  their  methods,  i'or  example,  when  his  first 
report  was  reprinted  in  18G1,  in  a  volume  no  longer 
bearing  the  official  stamp,  he  felt  free  to  prefix  to 
it  an  essay  on  tlie  true  functions  of  the  State  in  a 
democratic  community.  As  a  contribution  to  political 
philosophy,  and  as  a  key  to  many  of  his  later  specula- 
tions on  public  (^estions,  this  essay  will  probably 
rank  as  one  of  liis  best  and  most  thoughtful  utter- 
ances, lie  liad  been  ])rofouii(lly  impri'ssed  by  ri'ading 
])e  Tocqueville,  and  had  learned  I'l-om  that  acute 
thinker  to  estimate  the  advantairi's,  and  at  the  same 


DEMOCRACY  203 

time  to  perceive  some  of  the  perils,  of  a  democratic 
society,  particularly  as  they  were  exemplified  in  the 
United  States  and  in  France.  De  Tocque villa  had 
urged  that  democracy  was  inevitable,  and,  on  the 
whole,  desirable,  but  desirable  only  under  certain 
conditions,  those  conditions  capable  of  being  realized 
by  care  and  foresight,  but  capable  also  of  being 
missed.  Hence  the  great  desideratum  was  to  seek 
out  and  devise  that  form  of  democracy,  which  on  the 
one  hand  most  exercises  and  cultivates  the  intelli- 
gence and  mental  activity  of  the  majority,  and  on  the 
other  breaks  the  headlong  impulse  of  popular  opinion 
by  delay,  rigour  of  forms,  and  adverse  discussion. 
"  The  organization  and  establishment  of  democracy 
on  these  principles  is,"  as  John  Stuart  Mill  has  justly 
said,  "the  great  political  problem  of  our  time."^ 

Arnold  concluded  from  his  observation  and  study 
that  forces  were  at  Avork  which  made  it  impossible 
for  the  aristocracy  of  England  to  conduct  and  wield 
the  English  nation  much  longer.  It  is  true  that  they 
still  have  in  their  hands  a  large  share  in  the  admin- 
istration, and,  as  Mirabeau  said,  ''  Administrer,  c'est 
gouverner ;  gouverner  c'est  regner ;  tout  se  reduit  la." 
But  in  Arnold's  view  this  headship  and  leadership  of 
one  class,  with  the  substantial  acquiescence  of  the 
body  of  the  nation  in  its  predominance  and  right  to 
lead,  were  nearly  over.  There  was  nothing  to  lament 
in  this.  The  fuller  development  of  national  life,  the 
reduction  of  the  signal  inequalities  that  characterize 
the  older  societies,  and  the  extension  to  all  classes 
1  J.  S.  Mill,  Dissertations,  Vol.  II.,  p.  58. 


204  MAITHICW   ARNOLD 

of  a  due  sense  of  iir.lividiial  responsibility  and  of 
corporate  existence  Avere,  in  his  view,  more  than 
compensation  for  the  loss  of  a  certain  stateliness 
and  force  which  belonged  to  an  aristocratic  regime. 
"  The  power  of  France  in  Europe  is  at  this  day  mainly 
owing  to  the  completenesss  with  which  she  has 
organized  democratic  institutions.  The  action  of  the 
French  State  is  excessive,  but  it  is  too  little  under- 
stood in  England  that  the  French  people  has  adopted 
this  action  for  its  own  purposes,  has  in  great  measure 
attained  those  purposes  by  it,  and  owes  to  having 
done  so  the  chief  part  of  its  influence  in  Europe. 
The  growing  power  in  Europe  is  democracy,  and 
France  has  organized  democracy  with  a  certain  indis- 
putable grandeur  and  success."  Arnold's  first  official 
visit  to  the  Continent  left  on  him  a  strong  impression 
of  the  weakness  which  comes  from  our  insular  dread 
of  State  action.  He  recognized  the  value  of  voluntary 
effort  and  local  initiative  in  English  institutions;  but 
he  thought  we  overestimated  these  things,  and  that 
we  had  much  to  learn  from  the  organized  State  sys- 
tems of  foreign  lands,  especially  that  of  France. 

From  the  first,  France  interested  him  more  than 
Germany.  Notwithstanding  our  nearer  affinity  in 
race  to  the  Teutonic  people,  he  thought  tlie  English 
community  much  more  closely  akin  to  the  French  in 
their  history  and  genius,  their  love  of  liberty,  their 
literature,  their  national  aspirations,  and  their  moral 
ideals.  The  Germans  he  was  wont  to  speak  of  as  a 
"disciplinable  and  much  disciplined  people,"  who 
had,  it  is  true,  received  valuable  institutions  from 


FRANCE   AND    GERMANY  205 

tlie  ruling  classes,  but  who  had  shown  in  their  his- 
tory less  spontaneity  of  national  life,  and  had  under- 
gone fewer  of  the  experiences  likely  to  be  specially 
exemplary  to  Englishmen  than   our  nearest   neigh- 
bours, the  French.   .  Like  Heine,  that  Paladin  of  the 
modern   spirit,    he   gave    the    preference    to    France 
rather  than  to  Germany,  because  "the  French  as  a 
people  have  shown  more  accessibility  to  ideas,  be- 
cause  prescription  and  routine  have   had   less  hold 
upon  them  than  upon  any  other  people,  and  because 
they  have   shown   more  readiness    to   move   and   to 
alter  at  the  bidding   (real  or  supposed)   of   reason. 
"Englishmen  and  Frenchmen  have  alike  the  same 
instinctive  sense  rebelling  against  what  is  verbose, 
ponderous,   roundabout,  inane,   in  one  word  viais  or 
silly,  in  German  literature.^     In  his  report,  Arnold  ^ 
sa3's  further,  that  the   "Prussian  people,  under  its^H 
elaborate  sj'stem  of  education,  have  become  a  studious   / 
people,  a  docile  people,  a  well-informed  people  if  you  f  .^' 
will,  but   also  a  somewhat  pedantic  and   somewhat  ■ 
sophisticated  people."  ^ 

Hence  there  was  much,  he  thought,  to  be  gained 
if  the  men  of  France  and  England,  though  diverse 
in  race,  yet  morally  akin,  would  observe  and  under- 
stand one  another  better.  Of  the  Englishman  and  the 
Frenchman  he  said:  "Neither  is  likely  to  have  the 
other's  faults,  each  may  safely  adopt  as  much  as  suits 
him  of  the  other's  qualities.  If  I  were  a  Frenchman, 
I  should  never  be  weary  of  admiring  the  independent 

1  Mixed  Es'^ays. 

2  Popular  Education,  p.  \Cu. 


206  MATTHEW   AENOLD 

local  habits  of  action  in  England,  of  directing  atten- 
tion to  the  evils  occasioned  in  France  by  the  excessive 
action  of  the  State;  for  I  should  be  very  sure  that, 
say  Avhat  I  might,  the  part  of  the  State  would  never 
be  too  small  in  France,  nor  that  of  the  individual  too 
large.  Being  an  Englishman,  I  see  notliing  but  good 
in  freely  recognizing  the  coherence,  rationality,  and 
efficaciousness  which  characterize  the  strong  State 
action  of  France,  of  acknowledging  the  want  of 
method,  reason,  and  result  which  attend  the  feeble 
State  action  of  England ;  because  I  am  very  sure  that, 
strengthen  in  England  the  action  of  the  State  as 
one  may,  it  will  always  find  itself  sufficiently  con- 
trolled." Tracing  the  habitual  jealousy  with  which 
the  Englishman  is  wont  to  regard  Government  action 
to  the  long  struggle  for  religious  and  political  liberty 
against  a  dominant  aristocratic  and  ecclesiastical 
class,  Arnold  warned  his  countrymen  that,  though 
this  jealousy  was  justifiable  once,  it  was  so  no  longer. 
"It  is  not  State  action  in  itself  which  the  middle 
and  lower  classes  of  a  nation  ought  to  deprecate,  it  is 
State  action  exercised  by  a  hostile  class,  and  for  their 
oppression.  From  a  State  action  reasonably,  equita- 
bly, and  rationally  exercised,  they  may  derive  great 
benefit,  greater  by  the  very  nature  and  necessity  of 
things  than  can  be  derived  from  this  source  by  the 
class  above  tliem.  For  tlie  middle  and  lower  classos 
to  obstruct  such  action  is  to  play  the  game  of  their 
enemies,  and  to  prolong  for  themselves  a  condition  of 
real  inferiority.''  * 

1  Introduction  to  I'opulur  Eilucatum  in  Fruiter,  p.  41. 


COMPETITION   FOR    THE    CIVIL   SERVICE       207 

After  describing  the  College  of  France  and  the 
numerous  State  establishments  which  exist  in  Paris 
under  the  general  sanction  of  the  Minister  of  Public 
Instruction,  to  wit,  the  Schools  of  living  Oriental 
Languages,  the  Bureau  des  Longitudes,  the  Polytechnic 
Military  School,  the  Naval  School  of  Hydrography, 
the  schools  of  Woodcraft  and  Agriculture,  of  Com- 
merce and  of  Mines,  and  the  Academy  of  Medicine, 
he  says : 

"Public  establishments  such  as  these  serve  a  twofold 
purpose.  They  fix  a  standard  of  serious  preparation  and 
special  fitness  for  every  branch  of  employment — a  standard 
which  acts  on  the  whole  intellectual  habit  of  the  country. 
To  fix  a  standard  of  preparation  is  a  very  ditFerent  thing, 
and  it  is  a  far  more  real  homage  to  intelligence  and  study 
than  to  demand  —  as  we  have  done  since  the  scandal  of  our 
old  mode  of  appointment  to  pubhc  functions  grew  too  evi- 
dent —  a  single  examination  by  a  single  Board,  with  a  staff 
of  examiners  as  the  sole  preliminary  to  all  kinds  of  civil 
employment.  Examinations  preceded  by  preparation  in  a 
first-rate  superior  school  give  you  a  formed  man  ;  examina- 
tions preceded  by  preparation  under  a  crammer  give  you  a 
crammed  man,  but  not  a  formed  one. ....  A  second  pur- 
pose which  such  public  estabUshments  serve  is  this :  They 
represent  the  State,  the  country,  the  collective  community  in 
a  striking,  visible  shape,  which  is  at  the  same  time  a  noble 
and  civilizing  one,  giving  the  people  something  to  be  proud 
of  and  which  it  does  them  good  to  be  proud  of.  The  State 
is,  in  England,  singularly  without  means  of  civilization  of 
this  kind.  But  a  modern  State  cannot  aff'ord  to  do  without 
them,  and  the  action  of  individuals  and  corporations  cannot 
fully  compensate  for  them;  the  want  of  them  has  told 
severely  on  the  intelligence  and  refinement  of  our  middle  and 
lower  classes.  .   .  .     What  the  State,   the  collective,   per- 


208  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

niaiient  nation  honours,  the  people  honour ;  what  the  State 
neglects,  they  think  of  no  great  consequence."  ^ 

This  view  of  the  true  fuuctiou  of  the  State  is 
further    summarized    iu    another    passage    which    I 

transcribe  from  A  French  Eton  : 

"  Is  a  citizen's  relation  to  the  State  that  of  a  dependent 
to  a  parental  benefactor  1  By  no  means ;  it  is  that  of  a 
member  in  a  partnership  to  the  whole  firm.  The  citizens 
of  a  State,  the  members  of  a  society,  are  really  a  partner- 
sliip — 'a  partnership,'  as  Burke  nobly  says,  'in  all  sci- 
ence, in  all  art,  in  every  virtue,  in  all  perfection.' 
Towards  this  great  final  design  of  their  connexion,  they 
apply  the  aids  which  co-operative  association  can  give  them." 

In  this  rather  unpopular  belief,  and  iu  the  light  of 
these  general  principles,  Arnold  made  his  foreign 
inquiries;  and  his  reports  may  be  described  as  a 
sustained  argument  in  favour  of  this  thesis,  that  once 
secure  an  enlightened  democracy,  a  community  ani- 
mated by  a  progressive  spirit  and  noble  ideals,  it  is 
tlie  part  of  wisdom  to  invoke  the  collective  power  of 
the  State  to  give  effect  to  those  ideals. 

It  is  from  the  point  of  view  thus  indicated  that 
Arnold's  iirst  report  is  most  suggestive.  He  describes 
in  full  the  organization  of  the  primary  schools,  both 
in  their  relation  to  the  provincial  academies  and  to 
the  central  government,  the  salaries  and  status  of  the 
teachers,  and  the  course  of  normal  training  through 
which  they  pass.  He  is  especially  careful  to  do  full 
justice    to    the   "congreganist"   schools,    which    are 

1  Hci)()i-t  to  Uie  Schools  Iiiquiry  Cdmiiiissioii  of  IS  ."),  V\\.\\^.  \"lll. 


RELATION  OF  FRENCH  SCHOOLS  TO  THE  STATE     209 

maiutained  by  religious  bodies,  and  while  conform- 
ing to  certain  well-understood  conditions  respecting 
the  condition  of  the  premises  and  the  qualifications 
of  the  teachers,  received  little  aid  from  the  State. 
Under  the  administration  of  Guizot  in  1835  an 
attempt  had  been  made  by  tlie  State  to  co-operate 
with  the  churches,  and  to  secure  that  religious 
instruction  should  be  given  in  the  common  schools. 
Three  only  of  the  numerous  religious  divisions  with 
which  we  are  familiar  Avere  recognized  by  the  State, 
—  the  Roman  Catholic,  the  Protestant,  and  the  Jew- 
ish. In  those  communes  where  more  than  one  of  the 
forms  of  worship  thus  recognized  is  publicly  pro- 
fessed, each  form  was  to  have  a  separate  school. 
But  the  Departmental  Council  had  the  power  to 
authorize  the  union  in  a  common  school  of  children 
belonging  to  different  denominations.  Of  children 
thus  united,  however,  the  religious  liberty  was  sedu- 
lously guarded.  It  was  provided  that  ministers  of 
each  communion  should  have  free  and  equal  access  to 
the  school  at  separate  times  in  order  to  watch  over 
the  religious  instruction  of  members  of  their  own 
flock.  ^  Arnold,  in  1860,  found  this  system  working, 
and  spoke  favourably  of  its  results.  But  he  had  his 
misgivings  about  its  permanence.  "The  French 
system,"  he  said,  "recognized  certain  religious  divi- 
sions in  the  population,  but  it  does  not  divide  itself 
in  order  to  meet  them.  It  maintains  its  own  unity, 
its  own  impartiality.  In  their  relations  with  the 
State,  with  the  Civil  Power,  all  denominations  have 
1  Popular  Education  in  France,  p.  71. 


210  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

to  meet  upon  a  common  ground.  The  State  does  not 
make  itself  denominational;  tlie  denominations  have 
to  make  themselves  national."  It  is  mainly  because 
the  denominations  have  failed  to  make  themselves 
national  by  co-operating  with  the  State  on  conditions 
which  the  State  could  accept,  that  in  later  years  all 
attempts  at  compromise  and  co-operation  have  been 
abandoned,  and  France  has  taken  refuge  in  the  abso- 
lutely secular  system  which  now  prevails. 

The  history  of  this  failure  to  secure  a  ground  of 
common  action  between  the  churches  and  tlie  civil 
power  in  France,  as  it  may  be  traced  in  Arnold's  vol- 
ume, is  not  without  a  deep  and  special  significance  for 
English  readers  in  our  own  day.  To  Americans,  it  is 
less  instructive,  for  in  the  United  States  the  delimita- 
tion of  duty  and  responsibility  between  the  churches 
and  the  State  has  been  from  the  first  more  clearly 
marked ;  and  the  secularization  of  the  common  school 
has  met  with  the  national  approval,  not  only  because 
it  is  the  only  system  on  which  a  State  system  has  been 
found  possible,  but  because  it  gives  to  the  churches  a 
stronger  sense  of  their  own  special  responsibility, 
and  is  not  believed  to  be  inimical  to  the  true  interests 
of  religion. 

In  the  interval  between  the  first  and  the  second  of 
his  foreign  missions,  he  published,  at  fii'st  in  the 
form  of  a  magazine  article,  and  afterwards  in  that 
of  a  little  book,  the  essay  under  the  title  of  A  French 
Eton.  It  consisted  of  a  description  of  two  French 
institutions  wliich  liad  specially  interested  him, 
though  tliey  lay  outside  the  purview  of  his  first  com- 


THE   LYCEE   OF   TOULOUSE  211 

mission.  One  of  these  was  the  Lyceum  or  public 
secondary  school  at  Toulouse,  considered  as  a  type 
of  a  class  of  school  to'  which  there  is  nothing  analo- 
gous in  England.  It  is  attached  to  a  local  acad- 
emy of  the  first  rank,  and  is  founded  and  maintained 
by  the  State  with  aid  from  the  Dej^artment  and 
the  Commune,  and  under  the  general  control  of  the 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction  in  Paris.  All  the 
professors  had  gone  through  the  excellent  normal 
school  course,  and  were  duly  licensed.  There  were 
between  three  and  four  hundred  students  and  a 
separate  preparatory  institution,  le  Petit  College,  for 
boys  from  six  to  twelve  j'ears  of  age.  The  pro- 
gramme of  studies  included  Latin  and  Greek  grammar 
and  the  French  language,  the  ancient  and  the  ver- 
nacular languages  being  pursued  pari  passu  from  the 
first:  e.g.  Phaadrus  and  La  Fontaine,  Lucian  and 
Telemaque;  in  the  next  class  Virgil  and  Xenophon, 
with  Voltaire's  Charles  XII.,  then  Sallust  and  Cicero, 
with  Massillon  and  Boileau;  afterwards  the  Greek 
tragedians,  Plato  and  Demosthenes,  with  Bossuet 
and  Montesquieu,  while  in  the  sixth  or  highest  form 
there  was  a  division  into  two  courses,  rhetoric  and 
philosophy,  to  correspond  to  the  direction,  literary 
or  scientific,  which  the  studies  of  the  more  advanced 
scholars  were  to  take.  The  fees  are  regulated  by 
public  authority ;  for  tuition  only,  from  110  francs  to 
180  francs  a  year,  and  for  boarding  and  instruction, 
from  800  francs  to  900  francs. 

"  Such  may  be  the  cheapness  of  public-school  education, 
when  that  education  is  treated  as  a  matter  of  public  economy 


212  MATTHEW    AUNOLl) 

to  be  administered  on  a  great  scale  with  rigid  system  and 
exact  superintendence  in  the  interests  of  the  pupil  and  not 
in  the  interest  of  the  school  keeper.  Such  a  Lyceum  is  not 
managed  for  speculation  or  profit,  for  the  pubUc  is  the  real 
proprietor  of  the  Lyceums  which  it  has  founded  for  the  edu- 
cation of  its  youth  and  for  that  object  only ;  the  directors 
of  the  Lyceum  are  simple  servants  of  the  public  eraployetl 
by  the  public  at  fixed  salaries." 

Another  school  at  Soreze,  a  village  in  tlie  depart- 
ment of  the  Tarn-et-Garonne,  attracted  his  attention 
as  one  of  the  most  successful  private  schools  in  France, 
under  the  direction  of  the  celebrated  Dominican  father, 
Lacordaire.  The  French  Government  acknowledges 
the  obligation  to  allow  liberty  of  teaching,  but  not 
liberty  to  incompetence.  Hence,  even  in  private  reli- 
gious enterprises  of  this  kind,  the  director  was  bound 
to  hold  a  certificate  of  probation  and  a  certificate  of 
competency;  but  for  the  rest,  the  Soreze  institution 
was  one  in  which  the  venerable  director  was  free  to 
exercise  his  own  religious  influence  and  to  try  his 
own  experiments.  The  programme  of  studies  differed 
little  from  that  of  a  Lyceum,  although  Lacordaire 
deprecated  the  more  pronounced  military  system  of 
the  State  schools.  But  what  impressed  Arnold  most 
was  the  generous  and  high-toned  educational  aim  of 
the  school  and  the  fact  that,  at  a  charge  a  little  more 
than  that  exacted  in  the  Lycees,  there  were  to  be  found 
in  France,  under  the  supervision  of  responsible  public 
bodies,  or  of  the  State  itself,  middle-class  institutions 
of  a  type  not  to  be  met  with  at  home,  and  he  asked: 


CONTINENTAL   SYSTEMS  213 

"  Why  cannot  we  have  throughout  England  as  the  French 
have  throughout  France,  as  the  Germans  have  throughout 
Germany,  as  the  Swiss  have  throughout  Switzerhmd,  and 
as  the  Dutch  have  throughout  Holland,  schools  where  the 
middle  and  professional  classes  may  obtain  at  the  rate  of 
from  £20  to  £50  a  year  if  they  are  boarders,  and  from 
£5  to  £15  a  year  if  they  are  day  scholars,  an  education  of 
as  good  quality,  with  as  good  guarantees  of  social  charac- 
ter and  advantages  for  a  future  career  in  the  world,  as  the 
education  which  French  children  of  the  corresponding  class 
can  obtain  from  institutions  like  that  of  Toulouse  or 
Sorfeze  ? " 

Arnold  did  not  argue  that  either  of  these  institu- 
tions exactly  corresponded  to  Eton,  or  could  do  for  Eng- 
lish boys  all  that  Eton  does.  The  great  public  schools 
of  this  country  had  formed  the  ruling  class,  and  the 
ruling  class  had  been,  mainly  through  this  influence,  i 
imbued  on  the  whole  Avith  a  high,  magnanimous, 
governing  spirit.  Those  institutions  had  their  origin 
in  ancient  endowments.  But  beautiful  and  remarka- 
ble as  are  many  of  the  aspects  under  which  our  system 
presents  itself,  this  form  of  public  establishment  of 
education  ^vith  its  limitations,  its  preferences,  its  ec- 
clesiastical character,  its  inflexibility,  its  inevitable 
want  of  foresight,  had  proved,  as  time  rolled  on,  to  be 
subject  to  many  inconveniences  and  to  many  abuses. 

He  thought  that  for  the  class  frequenting  Eton,  the 
children  of  luxury,  the  grand  aim  should,  be  not  to 
increase  the  comforts  which  would  make  the  school 
more  like  their  own  well-equipped  homes ;  but  to  give 
them  those  good  things  which  their  birth  and  rearing 
are  least  likely  to  give  them,  to  give  them  (besides 


214  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

book  learning)  the  notion  of  a  sort  of  republican  fel- 
lowship, the  practice  of  a  plain  life  in  common,  the 
habit  of  self-help.  ^  To  the  middle  class  the  grand  aim 
of  education  should  be  to  give  largeness  of  soul  and 
personal  dignity;  and  to  the  lower  class  —  feeling, 
gentleness,  humanity. 

The  details  collected  by  Arnold  from  Holland, 
Belgium,  and  Switzerland  cannot  be  summarized 
here.  But  it  is  interesting  to  observe  that,  much  as 
these  countries  differed  in  circumstances,  and  in  the 
idiosyncrasies  of  their  people,  they  all  served  to  con- 
lirni  his  general  preference,  if  not  for  purely  State 
action  in  regard  to  public  education,  at  least  for  some 
guidance  and  sense  of  responsibility  on  the  part  of 
the  State,  in  dealing  with  individual  and  local 
initiative. 

"  I  do  not  think  we  can  hope  in  England  for  municipali- 
ties which,  like  the  Dutch  municipalities,  can  in  the  main 
safely  be  trusted  to  provide  and  watch  over  schools,  for 
a  population  which,  like  the  Dutch  population,  can  in  the 
main  safely  be  trusted  to  come  to  school  regularly,  or  for  a 
government  which  has  only  to  give  good  advice  and  good 
suggestions  in  order  to  be  promptly  obeyed.  Even  the  Gov- 
ernment of  Holland,  liowever,  has  regulated  popular  educa- 
tion by  law;  even  the  school-loving  people  of  Holland,  so 
well  taught,  so  sober  minded,  so  reasonable,  is  not  aban- 
doned in  the  matter  of  its  education  to  its  own  caprices. 
Tlic  State  in  Holland,  where  education  is  prized  by  the 
masses,  no  more  leaves  education  to  itself  tlian  the  State  in 
France,  where  it  is  little  valued  by  them.  It  is  the  same 
in  the  other  country  of  which  I  have  described  the  school 
system  —  in  Switzerland.  Here  and  there  wc  may  have 
found,   indeed,  seliool-rules  in  some  respects  injudicious,  in 


/  ^  CFTHE 

"JNIVERSII 

FRENCH   LAW   RESPECTING   ENDOWMENTS    ^15of 

some  respects  extravagant ;  but  everywhere  we  have  found 
law,  eveiywhere  State-regulation."  ^ 

His  report  to  the  Schools  Inquiry  Commission  of 
1867  is  chiefly  interesting  because  it  contains  an 
account  of  tlie  organization  of  secondary  instruction 
in  France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  Switzerland.  In  each  ; 
country  the  institutions  and  the  public  laws  are  of  ' 
much  later  date  than  our  own,  and  are  less  influenced 
by  mediaeval  traditions.  For  example,  the  report 
explains  the  fundamental  difference  between  the  law 
of  inheritance,  as  it  prevails  in  France,  and  the  com- 
mon law  of  England,  which  allows  a  testator  to  name 
trustees  with  perpetual  succession,  and  to  prescribe 
for  all  future  time  the  manner  in  which  the  usufruct 
of  his  estate  shall  be  employed.  "These  endowments 
are  of  far  less  importance  in  France  than  in  England. 
In  the  first  place,  the  Eevolution  made^a  clean  s^veep 
of  all  old  endowanents  which  date  from  an  earlier 
time.  In  the  second  place,  the  French  law  sets 
limits  to  a  man's  power  of  disposing  of  his  property, 
while  in  England  such  limits  do  not  exist.  In 
France,  by  the  Code  Napoleon  (Art.  913,  and  the 
articles  following),  if  a  man  leaves  one  legitimate 
child,  he  may  dispose  of  one-half  of  his  property, 
and  no  more,  away  from  him;  if  he  leaves  two,  he 
may  dispose  of  one-third,  and  no  more;  if  he  leaves 
more  than  two,  of  one-fourth,  and  no  more.  If  he 
has  no  children,  a  certain  i)roportion  of  his  property 
is  similarly  secured  to  his  nearest  representatives 
within  certain  limits.  The  amount  of  property  free 
1  Popular  Education  in  France,  pp.  233,  234. 


216  MATTHEW    AKNOLI) 

to  be  disposed  of  in  beuefactions  is  thus  luuch  smaller 
in  France  than  in  England. 

"In  Enghind  a  man  names  an  individual  tu  be  trustee,  or 
a  number  of  indiviikials  tu  be  trustees,  to  earry  into  etieet  a 
charitable  reijucst,  un  eonditions  assigned  by  him  at  jileasure. 
In  France  this  cannot  be  done.  A  founder  nnist  entrust  liis 
bequest  for  charitable  i)urpo.ses  to  a  jiersunne  civile,  defined 
as  an  etrefictif  auquel  la  loi  reconmiit  une  jxirtie  des  droits 
qui  ajijJdrtienneyit  aux  j^ei'sonnes  mxliruiires,  el  qui  2^ui'ent 
rer^evoir  des  liheraliles.  Such  a  jierKonne  civile  nnist  be 
either  a  public  estabhshmcnt  (for  instance,  a  public  hospital, 
a  parish  church,  a  comnnnie)  or  an  establishment  of  public 
utility."  ^ 

Curious  information  is  given  in  this  report  respect- 
ing the  fluctuations  of  opinion,  during  a  long  succes- 
sion of  Ministers  of  Public  Instruction,  in  reference  to 
the  place  which  the  study  of  ancient  languages  should 
hold  in  liberal  education.  But,  on  the  whole,  Greek 
and  Latin  had  retained  their  traditional  supremacy. 
A  passage  from  a  letter  addressed  to  Professor  Coning- 
ton  from  Paris  indicates  a  substantial  difference  of 
ideal  between  English  and  French  teachers. 

"Piles  of  e.xercise-books  are  sent  to  me  to  look  through, 
and  I  wish  you  could  see  them  with  me.  The  Latin  vei-se 
is  certainly  very  good,  but  it  is  clear  that  Latin  ami  CJreek 
arc  cultivated  almost  entirely  with  a  view  to  giving  tlie 
X)\\\)\\  a  mastery  over  ins  own  language  —  a  mastery  which 
lias  always  been  the  great  object  of  intellectual  and>ition 
lure  and  winch  counts  for  more  than  a  like  mastery  (Kh-s 
witli  us.     Perhaps,  becau.se  it  does  not  count  for  so   nnu-h 

1  Kcporl  l«)  ComniissioiuTS,  note  to  p.  4(;2. 


COMPETITIVE   EXAMINATIONS  217 

with  us,  a  like  mastery  is,  in  fact,  scarcely  ever  attained  in 
England,  certainly  never  at  school."  ^ 

It  will  be  seen  that  Arnold's  attention  in  these  for- 
eign inquiries  was  more  directed  to  matters  of  organi- 
zation, and  to  the  economical  and  political  aspects 
of  the  educational  problem,  than  to  the  details  of 
pedagogic  method.  Nevertheless,  incidentally  and 
occasionally,  he  dealt  Avith  some  topics  having  a 
special  bearing  on  the  interior  work  of  schools  and 
on  matters  of  policy,  on  which  the  minds  of  teachers 
are  not  yet  wholly  made  up.  Among  these  we  can 
only  refer  to  two,  of  wdiicli  one  is  the  well-worn  topic 
of  entrance  scholarships  by  competition. 

"  The  French  It/ct'es,  however,  are  guiltless  of  one  pre- 
postei'ous  violation  of  the  laws  of  life  and  liealth  connnitted 
by  our  own  great  schools,  which  have  of  late  years  thrown 
open  to  competitive  examinations  all  the  places  on  their 
foundations.  The  French  have  plenty  of  examinations,  but 
they  put  them  almost  entirely  at  the  right  age  for  examina- 
tions —  between  the  years  of  fifteen  and  twenty  five  wdien  the 
candidate  is  neither  too  old  or  too  young  to  be  examined 
with  advantage.  To  put  upon  little  boys  of  nine  or  ten  the 
pressure  of  a  competitive  examination  for  an  object  of  the 
greatest  value  to  their  jjarents,  is  to  offer  a  premium  for 
the  violation  of  nature's  elementary  laws,  and  to  sacrifice,  as 
in  the  poor  geese  fatted  for  Strasburg  pies,  the  due  develop- 
ment of  all  the  organs  of  life  to  the  premature  hypertrophy 
of  one.  It  is  well  known  that  the  cramming  of  the  little 
human  victims  for  their  ordeal  of  comiDetition  tends  more 
and  more  to  become  an  industry  with  a  certain  class  of  small 
schoolmasters  who  know  the  secrets  of  the  process,  and  who 

1  Letters,  Vol.  I.,  p.  264. 


218  MATTHEW    AKN(»L1) 

are  led  by  self- interest  to  select  in  the  first  instance  their 
own  chiMren  for  it.  Tiie  foundations  are  no  gainers,  antl 
nervous  exhaustion  at  fifteen  is  the  price  which  many  a 
clever  boy  pays  for  over-stimulation  at  ten  ;  and  the  nervous 
exhaustion  of  a  number  of  our  clever  boys  tends  to  a  broad 
reign  of  intellectual  deadness  in  the  mass  of  youths  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  whom  the  clever  boys,  had  they  been 
rightly  developed  and  not  unnaturally  forced,  ought  to  have 
leavened.  You  can  hardly  put  too  great  a  pressure  on  a 
healthy  youth  to  make  him  work  between  fifteen  and  twenty- 
five  ;  healthy  or  unhealthy  you  can  hardly  put  too  light  a 
pressure  of  this  kind  before  twelve."  ' 

On  another  topic,  that  of  leaving  examinations 
abiturientem  examen,  the  experience  furnished  by  Ger- 
many seemed  to  Arnold  especially  valuable.  He 
discusses  the  use  which  was  made  of  such  an  exami- 
nation by  the  State  as  a  qualification  for  the  public 
service.  The  course  followed  with  the  Reahchulen  and 
with  the  higher  Burgher  Schools  is  thus  described : 

"  For  entrance  to  the  different  branches  of  the  public  ser- 
vice, the  leaving  certificate  of  the  classical  .school  had,  up  to 
18.32,  been  retjuired.  For  certain  of  tiicsc  brandies  it  was 
determined,  in  1832,  to  accept  henceforth  the  certificate  of 
the  Renhrhule  or  the  higher  Burgher  School  instead  of  that 
of  the  gymnasium.  Different  departments  ma<le  their  own 
stipulations  :  the  Minister  of  Public  "Works,  for  instance, 
stipulated  that  the  certificate  of  the  candidate  for  the  linn- 
akdilemle  (School  of  Architect\u-e)  should  be  valid  only  when 
the  candidate's  Rcohrhule  or  higher  Burgher  School  had  been 
one  of  the  first  class,  or  with  the  full  number  of  six  da.ssc.s, 
and  when  he  had  passed  two  years  in  each  of  the  two  higliest 
I  mention  a  detail  of  this  kind  to  show  the  com- 
1  Report,  p.  481). 


EDUCATION   IN   CITIZENSHIP  219 

missioners  how  entirely  it  is  the  boy's  school  and  training 
which  the  Prussian  Government  thinks  the  great  matter, 
and  not  his  examination."^ 

Finally  there  is  appended  to  the  report  a  copy  of 
the  programme  on  Legislation  Usuelle  in  the  then  newly- 
organized  Enseignement  Secondaire  Special  in  France, 
which,  as  it  relates  to  a  department  of  a  citizen's  train- 
ing scarcely  yet  recognized  by  English  teachers,  is 
specially  suggestive  to  them.  Of  this  programme  he 
says: 

"  The  programme  headed  ler/islation  nsiielle,  giving  the 
outline  of  a  course  on  the  public  and  private  law,  and  the 
administrative  organization  of  France,  —  how  the  govern- 
ment is  composed,  Avhat  are  the  functions  of  its  different 
departments,  how  the  municipalities  are  constituted,  how 
the  army  is  recruited,  how  taxes  are  raised,  what  is  the 
legal  and  judicial  system  of  the  country,  how  in  the  most 
important  relations  of  civil  life,  marriage  inheritance,  hold- 
ing property,  buying,  selling,  lending,  borrowing,  partner- 
ship, the  laws  affect  the  citizen,  — •  this  programme  in 
particular  seems  to  me  so  well  composed,  both  for  what  it 
inserts  and  what  it  omits,  and  so  suggestive,  that  I  reprint 
it  at  the  end  of  this  report  for  the  Commissioners'  informa- 
tion. The  programmes  on  the  legislation  of  commerce  and 
industry,  and  on  rural,  industrial  and  commercial  economy, 
are  also  very  interesting  ;  but  each  of  these  is  more  particu- 
larly designed  for  a  single  division  of  pupils,  according  to 
the  class  of  profession  to  which  they  are  destined  :  whereas 
the  programme  for  fefp'slatioii  usueUe  is  designed  for  all, 
containing  what  it  is  important  for  all  alike  to  know  ;  there- 
fore it  is  not  so  easy  a  programme  to  prepare,  and  has  a 
more  general  interest  when  prepared." 
1  Report,  p.  566. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Arnold's  views  of  English  society  —  The  three  classes,  the  Barbari- 
ans, the  Philistines,  the  Populace  — Characteristics  of  the  Philis- 
tine or  middle  class  —  Why  his  diagnosis,  though  true  in  the 
main,  was  inadequate  —  The  want  of  culture  among  Noncon- 
formists—  The  disabilities  under  which  they  ha<l  suffered  — A 
sonnet  —  Illustration  of  the  difference  between  public  schools  and 
private  "  academies  "  —  Schools  for  special  trades,  sects,  or  pro- 
fessions —  Hymns  —  Effects  of  his  polemic  in  favour  of  a  system 
of  secondary  instruction 

Matthew  Arnold  never  lost  an  opportunity  of 
exposing  with  pitiless  candour  the  fallacy  of  the 
belief  so  fondly  cherished  by  the  British  riiilistine, 
that  we  are  a  well-educated  peoi)le,  and  tliat  we  are 
likely  to  remain  so,  if  we  give  free  play  to  local  initi- 
ative and  private  enterprise.  On  the  contrary,  he 
brought  forward,  as  we  have  seen,  an  immense  mass 
of  facts,  personal  experiences,  and  statistics  to  prove 
that  whereas  in  Continental  countries,  in  which  the 
education  of  tlm  middle  class  is  a  matter  of  national 
concern  and  State  supervision,  "that  class  in  general 
may  be  said  to  be  brought  up  upon  the  first  plant^  in 
England  it  is  brought  up  on  the  socoml  plane,"  and 
he  quotes  with  sorrowful  accpiiesceuce  the  langiuige 
of  a  foreign  reportiu-  who  said,  ^'  L^ Aixjletrrre  projn'e- 
ment  elite  est  le  pays  iV  Eurojie  oh  V  instruct  ion  est  le 
moins  repandue."  ^  Arnold  regarded  It  as  one  of  the 
chief  aims   of  his   life   to  disturb  our   insular   self- 

1  Preface  to  Sr/iools  and  I'liivprsitics  on  the  ContiiK'nt. 
2L'0 


CLASSIFICATION   OF   ENGLISH   SOCIETY        221 

gratulation,  and  to  make  English  people  profoundly  / 
discontented  with  tlieii-  present  provision  for  inter- 
mediate and  higher  instruction. 

He  was  fond  of  dividing  English  society  into  three 
classes,  —  the  upper  or  aristocratic  and  official  class, 
the  middle  class,  and  the  working  or  lower  class.  The 
first  he  playfully  characterized  as  the  Barbarians,  the 
second  as  the  Philistmes,  and  the  third  as  the  Popu- 
lace. Of  the  first  of  these  classes,  he  always  speaks 
with  good-humoured  tolerance  and  with  a  certain 
qualified  admiration. 

"  It  is  the  chief  virtue  of  a  healthy  and  uncorrupted  aris- 
tocracy that  it  is  ill  general  in  the  grand  style.  That  eleva- 
tion of  character,  that  noble  way  of  thinking  and  behaving 
which  is  an  eminent  gift  of  nature  to  some  individunls,  is 
also  often  generated  in  whole  classes  of  men  (at  least  when 
these  come  of  a  strong  and  good  race)  by  the  possession  of 
power,  by  the  importance  and  responsibiUty  of  high  station, 
by  liabitual  dealing  with  great  things,  by  being  placed  above 
the  necessity  of  struggling  for  little  things.  It  may  go  along 
with  a  not  very  quick  or  open  intelHgence,  but  it  cannot 
well  go  along  with  a  conduct  vulgar  and  ignoble." ' 

But  on  the  other  hand,  in  tlie  same  essay  he  dwells 
emphatically  on  the  incapacity  of  the  ruling  class  for 
ideas,  and  traces  to  this  cause  the  secret  of  their 
declining  influence  and  their  wajit  of  success  in 
modern  epochs. 

"  They  can,  and  often  do,  impart  a  high  spirit,  a  fine 
ideal  of  grandeur,  to  the  people ;  thus  they  lay  the  founda- 
tions of  a  great  nation.     But  they  leave  the  people  still  the 

1  Mixed  Essays. 


222  MATTHEW   AUNOLD 

multitude,  the  crowd ;  they  liave  small  belief  in  the  power 
of  the  ideas  which  are  its  life.  ...  In  one  most  important 
part  of  general  human  culture  —  openness  to  ideas  antl  ardour 
for  them  —  aristocracy  is  less  advanced  than  democracy,  and 
to  keep  the  latter  under  the  tutelage  of  the  former  would  on 
the  whole  be  actually  unfavourable  to  the  progress  of  the 
world.  At  epochs  when  new  ideas  are  powerfully  permeat- 
ing in  a  society,  and  profoundly  changing  its  spirit,  aristocra- 
cies, as  they  are  in  general  not  long  suffered  to  guide  it  without 
question,  so  are  they  by  nature  not  fitted  to  guide  it  intelli- 
gently."^ 

Aud  he  quotes  Avith  approval  from  his  favourite, 
De  Tooqueville,  the  remark  "that  the  common  people 
is  more  uncivilized,  in  aristocratic  countries  than  in 
others,  because  there  the  lowly  and  the  poor  feel 
themselves,  as  it  were,  overwhelmed  with  the  weight 
of  their  own  inferiority."  ^ 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand  the  true  nature  of 
Arnold's  influence  on  public  education  without  con- 
sidering the  estimate  he  formed  of  the  society  in 
which  he  lived,  and  the  rather  merciless  view  he  took 
of  some  of  our  national  foibles  and  Aveaknesses.  In 
a  spirit  which  reminds  us  from  time  to  time  of  Ape- 
mantus,  of  Jacqiies,  of  Swift,  or  of  Carlyle,  he  poses 
throughout  many  of  his  prose  writings  as  the  critic 
and  censiirer  of  mankind.     He  once  said  of  Goethe : 

"  He  took  tlie  sufFcring  human  race, 

He  read  each  wound,  each  weakness  clear, 
And  struck  his  finger  on  the  place 

And  said,  '  Thou  ai/cxf,  here  am/  /inr/'" 

1  Mired  Essaijs. 

2  Iri.sh  Essays,  The  Fitttire  of  Lihertilism. 


THE   PHILISTINES  223 

In  a  sense  it  is  true  of  Arnold  that  he  set  himself 
the  like  task,  and  that  on  the  whole  he  fulfilled  it 
with  sureness  of  touch,  with  insight  and  skill,  with 
a  pleasant  mingling  of  raillery  and  persuasiveness, 
though  not  with  unqualified  success.  As  he  looked 
upon  English  society,  he  thought  he  saw  an  upper  // 
class  materialized  and  frivolous,  a  middle  class  vul- 
garized, and  a  lower  class  brutalized. 

But  while  he  recognized  some  compensation  for 
the  lack  of  ideas  in  the  tone  of  manners  and  in  the 
piiblic  services  of  the  aristocracy,  and  some  corrective 
for  the  peculiar  vices  of  democracy  in  its  openness 
of  mind  and  accessibility  to  ideas,  he  reserved  for  the 
middle  class  his  severest  criticism  and  his  most  hu- 
morous invective.  He  called  them  Philistines.  He 
said  of  this  class,  that  although  with  virtues  of  its 
own  it  was  "full  of  narrowness,  full  of  prejudices, 
with  a  defective  type  of  religion,  a  narrow  range  of 
intellect  and  knowledge,  a  stunted  sense  of  beauty,  a 
low  standard  of  manners,  and  averse,  moreover,  to 
whatever  may  disturb  it  in  its  vulgarity."  ^ 

"  The  great  English  middle  class,  the  kernel  of  the 
nation,  the  class  Avhose  intelligent  sympathy  had 
upheld  a  Shakespeare,  entered  the  prison  of  Puritan- 
ism and  had  the  key  turned  upon  its  spirit  there  for 
two  hundred  years.  ^ He  enlargeth  a  nation,'  said 
Job,  'cmd  straiteneth  it  again.'  If  the  lower  classes 
in  this  country  have  utterly  abandoned  the  dogmas  of 
Christianity,  and  the  upper  classes  its  practice,  the 
cause  lies  very  much  in  the  impossible  and  unlovely 
1  Irish  Essays,  The  Future  of  Liberalism. 


224  MATTHEW   AliXOLI) 

presentment  of  Christian  dogmas  and  practice  wliieli 
is  offered  by  the  most  important  part  of  the  nation, 
the  serious  middle  class,  and  above  all  by  its  Non- 
conforming portion."^ 

Arnold's  own  experience  had  brought  him  into 
exceptionally  near  contact  with  this  portion  of  our 
social  organism.  As  Inspector,  during  many  years, 
of  schools  not  connected  with  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, he  was  necessarily  tlie  recipient  of  the  hospi- 
tality of  the  managers  of  such  schools.  He  had 
known  what  it  was  to  be  prayed  for  by  name,  antl 
to  have  his  faults  gently  hinted  at  in  the  family 
devotions.  He  railed  at  "the  hideousness,  the  im- 
mense ennui  of  the  life  which  the  Puritan  type  had 
created,"  He  described  the  middle-class  Londoner 
as  oscillating  between  a  disnuil  and  illiberal  life  at 
Islington  and  an  equally  dismal  and  illiberal  life  at 
Camberwell.  To  him  the  typical  Philistine  was  one 
who  never  admired  or  even  knew  what  was  best  in 
literature,  but  only  that  which  is  flimsy  and  epheme- 
ral; who  prided  himself  on  upholding  the  "dissidence 
of  dissent,  and  the  Protestantism  of  the  Protestant 
religion,"  who  liked  tea  meetings  and  Bands  of  Hope 
and  unctuous  sermons,  and  wlio  had  a  morlnd  hanker- 
ing after  marriage  with  his  deceasi'd  wife's  sister. 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  has  said: 

"('ondciimcd  as  lu;  was  to  live  and  work  ainoiii,'  tlu>  mid- 
dle class,  while  imbued  with  tiio  ideas  in  wliii-li  tliey  wore 
most  defective,  loving  as  he  did  the  beauty  and  tlie  fresh- 


PURITANISM  225 

ness  of  Oxford,  the  logical  clearness  and  belief  in  ideas  in 
France,  the  devotion  to  truth  and  philosophical  thorough- 
ness of  Germany,  the  sight  of  the  dogged  British  Philistine 
was  to  him  a  perpetual  grievance." 

Here  is  a  passage  from  Friendship' s  Garland  which 
tells  its  own  story : 

"What  makes  me  look  at  France  and  the  French  with 
inexhaustible  curiosity  and  indulgence  is  this  :  their  faults 
are  not  of  the  same  kind  as  ours,  so  we  are  not  likely  to 
catch  them ;  their  merits  are  not  of  the  same  kind  as  ours, 
so  we  are  not  likely  to  become  idle  and  self-sufficient  from 
studying  them.  I  find  such  interest  and  instruction  in  con- 
sidering a  city  so  near  London,  and  yet  so  unlike  it.  It  is 
not  that  I  so  envy  the  Frenchman  his  cafe-haiinting,  domino- 
playing  boim/eois.  But  when  I  go  through  Saint  Pancras 
I  like  to  compare  our  vestry-haunting,  resolution-passing 
bourgeois  with  the  Frenchman,  and  to  say  to  myself,  '  This, 
then,  is  what  comes  of  not  frequenting  cafds  nor  playing 
dominoes!  My  countrymen  here  have  got  no  cafds,  and 
have  never  learnt  dominoes,  and  see  the  mischief  Satan  has 
found  for  their  idle  hands  to  do  ! '  Still  I  do  not  wish 
them  to  be  the  cafe-haunting,  domino-playing  Frenchmen, 
but  rather  some  third  thing,  neither  the  Frenchmen  nor 
their  present  selves." 

No  one  who  knows  England  well  can  deny  that 
there  is  much  truth  in  this  kind  of  criticism.  Matthew 
Arnold's  diagnosis  of  some  of  our  moral  ailments  was 
undoubtedly  keen  and  just.  T>nt  it  wn,s  incomplete^ 
He  hardly  ever  did  full  justice  to  the  many  good  and 
solid  elements  of  national  character  which  the  English 
people  owe  to  Puritanism.  The  case  was  in  fact  one 
of  what  Charles  Lamb  was  wont  to  call  "  imperfect 


226  MATTHKW  AUXoLD 

sympathies."  Neitlier  the  British  Philistine  nor  liis 
critic  ever  fully  understood  or  ajjpreciated  tlie  otlier. 
Arnold,  with  his  lofty  air  of  distiuctiou  and  his  high- 
bred manners,  sometimes  appeared  to  those  whom  he 
criticised  a  rather  dandified  and  supercilious  cynic, 
going  through  the  world  as  one  who  held  a  moral 
smelling-bottle  at  his  nose,  and  exacting  an  impos- 
sible standard  of  life  from  a  busy  and  strenuous 
people  who  had  their  living  to  get.  And  he,  on  tlie 
other  hand,  never  ceased  to  call  attention  to  their 
want  of  taste,  their  intellectual  poverty,  their  groat 
need  of  culture,  of  beauty,  and  "of  sweetness  and  of 
liglit."  This  last  phrase  was  seized  upon  by  the 
public  and  often  quoted  as  a  proof  of  his  superfine 
and  unpractical  ideals.  When  he  went  to  receive 
the  honorary  degree  of  l^.C.L.  at  Oxford,  some  wits 
suggested  that  Lord  Salisbury,  the  Chancellor  of  the 
University,  should  address  him  Vir  dulcissime  et 
luciclissime.  But  beneath  this  famous  and  much 
criticised  formula,  Arnold  liad  a  real  meaning  and 
conviction,  which  was  not  without  a  serious  signifi- 
cance for  his  countrymen. 

It  has  been  truly  said  that  Arnold's  criticisms  did 
not  manifest  an  adequate  sense  of  what  the  religion  of 
the  lilnglish  middle  class  had  really  been  to  it,  what 
a  source  of  vitality,  energy,  and  persistent  force. 
"  They  wlio  wait  on  the.  Lord,"  says  Isaiah,  in  wtu-ds 
not  less  true  than  they  are  noble,  ^^  shall  renew  their 
strength,"  and  the  English  middle  class  owes  to  its 
religion  not  only  comfort  in  the  jiast,  but  also  a  vast 
latent  store  of  unworn  life  and  strength  for  future 


WHAT   ENGLAND   OWES   TO   THE   PHILISTINES      227 

progress.       There   was    defective    insight   and   some 
injustice  in  his  failure  to  recognize  this  fact. 

A  closer  study  of  history  would  probably  have 
modified  the  contempt,  half-amused  and  half-serious, 
with  which  Arnold  regarded  the  English  middle 
class.  There  was  a  time  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  seventeenth  century  when  a  great  wave  of  irre- 
ligion  and  profligacy  burst  over  English  society,  and, 
if  we  are  to  form  our  judgments  solely  from  books 
of  history,  would  appear  to  have  well-nigh  sub- 
merged all  the  best  elements  of  the  national  charac- 
ter. But,  after  all,  the  vices  of  the  Restoration  period 
affected  the  Court  and  the  upper  ranks  mainly ;  they 
touched  the  surface  only  of  our  social  life.  Down 
deeper  lay  the  great  solid  mass  of  Puritan  England, 
and  in  this  the  inbred  probity,  self-respect,  and  sense 
of  righteousness  remained  for  the  most  part  uninflu- 
enced by  the  wildness  and  licentiousness  of  the  aris- 
tocracy. In  like  manner  the  eighteenth  century  saw 
in  the  Church  of  England  decorum,  learning,  and 
many  estimable  qualities,  but  also  coldness  and  a 
notable  absence  of  religious  fervour  or  of  strong 
conviction.  And  it  was  to  Wesley  and  Whitfield, 
and  not  to  ecclesiastics  in  high  places,  that  Ave 
owe  the  evangelical  revival  of  that  century.  We 
have,  as  a  nation,  been  in  fact  saved  from  moral 
corruption  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  from 
religious  apathy  and  indifference  in  the  eighteenth, 
not  by  the  influence  of  the  educated  and  privileged 
classes,  but  by  the  great  and  stedfast  qualities  of 
that  very  class  of  British  Philistines  against  whom 


228  MATTHEW   AKNOLD 

Matthew  Arnold  directed  all  liis  earnest  condem- 
nation and  all  the  lighter  artillery  of  his  sarcasm 
and  his  wit. 

There  is  another  consideration  which,  in  reading 
Cnlture  caul  Anarchy,  and  books  of  tlie  like  kind,  we 
are  in  some  danger  of  overlooking.  The  Act  of 
Uniformity  of  KJGU,  and  the  series  of  similar  acts 
which  constitute  what  is  called  the  Clarendon  Code, 
—  Corporation  Act,  Test  Act,  Conventicle  Act,  and 
Five-Mile  Act,  —  had  been  designed  to  stamp  out 
Nonconformity  and  had  made  it  a  penal  offence  for  a 
Dissenter  either  to  preach  in  a  chapel  or  to  teach  in 
any  private  or  public  school.  Tor  many  years  those 
who  objected  to  sign  the  Articles  and  to  conform  to 
the  Avorship  of  the  Church  of  England  were  subject 
to  heavy  disabilities,  as  Avell  as  to  irritating  social 
exclusion.  The  Schism  Act  of  1713  enacted  that 
"no  person  in  Great  Britain  shall  keep  any  public  or 
private  school,  or  act  as  tutor,  that  has  not  lirst  sub- 
scribed the  declaration  to  conform  to  the  Church  of 
England  and  obtained  a  licence  from  the  diocesan, 
and  that  upon  failure  of  so  doing  the  i)arty  may  be 
committed  to  i)rison  witliout  bail;  and  that  no  such 
licence  shall  be  granted  before  the  i)arty  produces  a 
certificate  of  having  rec(uved  the  sacrament  according 
to  the  communion  of  the  Church  of  England  within 
the  last  year,  and  also  subscribed  the  oaths  of  alle- 
giance and  supremacy."  Until  the  year  1770  it 
continued  to  be  illegal  for  a  dissenter  to  act  as  a 
schoolmaster.  Tlie  Test  and  Corporation  Acts  sur- 
vived till  the  year  ISL".),   and  tests  on  admission  to 


NONCONFORMIST    DISABILITIES  229 

degrees  in  the  Universities  were  not  finally  abolished. 
by  Parliament  till  1871. 

Thus  it  is  scarcely  just  or  generous  on  the  part 
of  cliurchiuen,  whose  zeal  for  uniformity  of  belief 
has  caused  tlrem  during  three  centuries  to  exclude  Dis- 
senters from  the  Universities,  from  schools,  from  the 
higher  professions,  and  from  the  public  service,  to 
reproach  their  fellow-countrymen  with  want  of  culture 
and  with  an  ignoble  ideal  of  education.  If  the'  Eng- 
lish Xonconformist  exhibited  a  Avatchful  and  habitual 
dread  of  State  interference,  it  was  because  he  and  his 
ancestors  had  suffered  much  from  such  interference  in~  ~~ 
days  gone  by.  And  if  he  was  deficient  in  the  graces, 
the  accomplishments,  and  the  tastes  which  are  the 
products  of  a  high  and  generous  education,  it  ought 
at  least  to  be  remembered  in  his  defence  that  the 
means  of  obtaining  such  education  had  been  for  many 
generations  deliberately  placed  out  of  his  reach. 
Probably  if  Arnold  ever  fully  recognized  the  weight 
of  these  and  the  like  considerations,  some  of  his  judg- 
ments would  have  been  less  severe,  and  he  would  have 
wounded  and  irritated  the  Xonconformists  less. 

That  he  Avas  not  insensible  to  the  value  of  much  of 
the  work  Avhich  they  had  done,  or  unmindful  of  the 
efforts  they  have  made  on  behalf  of  education,  many 
passages  from  his  reports  abundantly  prove.  Here  is 
a  sonnet  which  he  wrote  after  meeting  in  the  East 
End  a  well-known  Congregational  minister,  the  Rev. 
W.  Tyler,  whom  as  school  manager  and  energetic 
Avorker  in  social  improvement  he  had  often  encoun- 
tered on  his  inspecting  tours: 

I    TT  XT  T    -.7  T'  o"  -:■  T  n 


230  MATI'llKW   AH. NOLI) 

"  'Twa«  Au^^'iist,  and  tin.'  fierce  sim  overhead 
Smote  on  tlie  squalid  streets  of  Bethnal  Green, 
And  the  pale  weaver,  through  Ids  windows  seen 
In  Spitalfiekls,  look'd  tlirice  dispirited. 

"  I  met  a  prcaclier  tiiere  I  knew,  and  said  : 
'  111  and  o'erwork'd,  how  fare  you  in  this  scene  1 '  — 
'  Bravely  ! '  said  he :   '  for  I  of  late  have  been 
Much  eheer'd  with  thoughts  of  Christ,  the  Hviivj  bread* 

*'  O  liumau  soul !  as  long  as  thou  canst  so 
Set  up  a  mark  of  everlasting  light. 
Above  the  howling  senses'  ebb  and  flow  — 
To  cheer  thee,  and  to  right  thee  if  thou  roam  — 
Not  with  lost  toil  thou  labourest  through  the  night ! 
Thou  mak'st  the  heaven  thou  hop'st  indeed  thy  home." 

On  his  favourite  theme,  the  need  of  a  better  sys- 
tem of  secondary  education,  he  wrote  copiously.  He 
thought  the  ideal  prevalent  among  Englishmen  of  what 
a  school  ought  to  be  and  to  do  Avas  often  mean  and 
ignoble.  "I  have  this  year,"  he  says  in  a  letter  to  me 
in  1880,  ''been  reading  Ddoid  Copperfield  for  the  first 
time.  Mr.  Creakle's  school  at  lilackheath  is  the  type 
of  our  ordinary  middle-class  schools,  and  our  mid- 
dle class  is  satisfied  that  so  it  should  be." 

And  in  another  letter  in  1881,  referring  to  a  pro- 
ject for  a  sort  of  trades'  union  among  secondary  and 
private  teachers,  designed  partly  for  inqiroving  their 
own  qualifications  and  status,  but  mainly  for  the  pro- 
tection of  their  ])i'or(\ssional  interests,  he  tells  me: 

"I  have  seen  the  prospectus  and  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  It  is  just  the  sort  of  makeshift  the  Knglisli  like, 
in    order   to  escape  a  jircssing  necessity,   such  as  the  total 


PUBLIC   AND   PRIVATE    SCHOOLS  231 

reform  of  their  middle  class  education.  But  a  uiakeshift  of 
this  kind  is  not  what  is  wanted.  My  whole  use  consists  in 
standing  out  for  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth,  about  our  wretched  middle  class  education  and  its 
needs." 

By  way  of  illustrating  tbe  difference  between  the 
position. of  a  teacher  responsible  only  to  a  recognized 
public  body,  and  one  whose  sole  business  was  to  sat- 
isfy and  to  flatter  ill-educated  parents,  he  once  wrote : 

"  The  stamp  of  plainness  and  the  freedom  from  charlatan- 
ism given  to  the  instruction  of  our  primaiy  schools,  through 
the  public  character  which  in  tlie  last  thirty  years  it  has 
received,  and  through  its  having  been  tlius  reserved,  in  great 
measure,  from  the  influences  of  private  speculation,  is  per- 
haps the  best  thing  among  them.  It  is  in  this  respect  that 
our  primary  schools  compare  so  favourably  with  the  private 
adventure  schools  of  the  middle  class,  that  class  which  Mr. 
Bright  says  is  perfectly  competent  to  manage  its  own  schools 
and  education.  The  work  in  the  one  is  appraised  by  impar-"~"i 
tial  educated  persons ;  in  the  other,  by  the  common  run  of  / 
middle-class  parents.  To  show  the  difference  in  the  result,  , 
I  will  conclude  by  placing  in  juxtaposition  a  letter  written 
in  school  by  an  ordinary  scholar  in  a  public  elementary 
school  in  my  district,  a  girl  of  eleven  years  old,  with  one 
written  by  a  boy  in  a  private  middle-class  school,  and  fur- 
nished to  one  of  the  Assistant-Commissioners  of  the  Schools 
Inquiry  Commission.     The  girl's  letter  I  give  first : 

"  *  Dear  Fanny.  —  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  pass  in  my 

examination  ;  Miss  C says  she  thinks  I  shall.     I  shall 

be  glad  when  the  Serpentine  is  frozen  over,  for  we  shall  have 
such  fun ;  I  wish  you  did  not  live  so  far  away,  then  you 
could  come  and  share  in  the  game.  Father  cannot  spare 
Willie,  so  I  have  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  teach  him  to 
cipher  nicely.     I  am  now  sitting  by  the  school  fire,   so  I 


232  MATTHEW  AUNOLD 

assure  you  I  am  very  warm.  Father  and  mother  are  very 
well.  1  hope  to  see  you  on  Christmas  Day.  Winter  is 
coming:  don't  it  make  you  shiver  to  think  of?  Shall  yi)U 
ever  come  to  snwjky  old  London  again?  It  is  not  so  bad, 
after  all,  with  its  bustle  and  business  and  noise.     If  you  see 

Ellen  T will  you  kindly  get  her  address  for  me?     I 

must  now  conclude,  us  I  am  soon  going  to  my  reading  class  : 
so  good  bye. 

"  '  From  your  allectiouate  friend 

"'M.' 
"And  now  I  give  the  boy's  : 

"  'My  T)e.\r  Parents.  — The  anticipation  of  our  Christ- 
mas vacation  abounds  in  peculiar  delights.  Not  only  that 
its  "festivities,"  its  social  gatherings  and  its  lively  anmse- 
ments  crown  the  old  year  witli  happiness  and  mntli,  but 
that  I  come  a  guest  commended  to  your  hospitable  love  by 
the  performance  of  all  you  bade  me  remember  when  1  left 
you  in  the  glad  season  of  sun  and  flowers.  And  time  has 
sped  tioetly  since  reluctant  my  departing  step  croased  the 
threshold  of  tliat  home  whose  indulgences  and  endearments 
their  temporary  loss  has  taught  me  to  value  more  and  more. 
Yet  that  restiaint  is  salutary,  and  tliat  self-reliance  is  as 
easily  learnt  as  it  is  laudable,  the  propriety  of  my  conduct 
and  the  readiness  of  my  services  shall  ere  long  aptly  illus- 
trate. It  is  with  confidence  I  j)romise  that  tlie  close  of 
every  year  shall  find  me  advancing  in  your  regard  by  con- 
stantly observing  the  precepts  of  my  e.xcellont  tutors  and 
the  example  of  my  excellent  parents. 

'"We  break  up  on  Tiuusday  the  lltii  of  DecembtT 
instant,  and  my  impatience  of  the  sliort  delay  will  assure 
my  dear  iKirents  uf  the  filial  sentiments  of 

"  '  Theirs  very  sincerely, 

'"N. 

'"P.  S.  We  shall  reassemble  on  the  19th  (.f  January. 
I\Ir.  and  Mrs.  P.  present  their  respectful  couiplinients.' 


SECTIONAL   AND   CLASS   SCHOOLS  233 

"  To  those  who  ask  what  is  the  difFerenee  between  a  pub- 
lic and  a  private  school,  I  answer,  It  is  this."  ^ 

There  was  one  class  of  English  schools  for  ^vhieh 
Arnold  entertained  a  special  dislike  —  schools  erected 
by  private,  sectarian,  or  professional  bodies  for  the  sep- 
arate instruction  of  their  own  children  —  e.g.  schools 
for  Clergy  orphans,  for  sous  of  Freemasons,  of  Com- 
mercial Travellers,  of  otticers  in  the  Army,  of  Wes- 
leyaus,  or  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  Mutatis  mutandis 
these  institutions  were  open  to  the  same  objections 
wliich  api)ly  to  Poor  Law  schools,  or  to  Eagged 
schools.  They  are  filled  in  each  case  with  scholars 
who  have  had  the  same  antecedents  and  are  drawn 
from  the  same  class.  Whatever  disabilities  attach  to 
the  class,  whatever  professional  narrowness  or  preju- 
dices belong  to  the  homes  from  w'hich  they  come,  are 
intensified  and  rendered  more  mischievous  by  bring- \ 
ing  the  children  together  into  an  artificial  community  j 
of  this  kind.  What  such  children  need  most  is  the 
freer  air,  and  the  more  varied  conditions,  which  char- 
acterize a  good  school  recruited  from  different  classes 
of  society.  The  happiest  thing  iov  a  soldier's  orphan, 
for  example,  is  to  be  placed  in  a  school  with  other 
children  who  are  not  orphans  and  whose  fathers  were 
not  soldiers. 

On  this  point  Arnold  spoke  fre(|uently  and  with 
much  emphasis.  For  exami^le,  he  thus  contrasted  the 
public  character  of  some  German  middle  schools  under 
crown  patronage,  with  the  sectional  and  quasi-jDrivate 
establishments  so  common  at  home. 

1  Report  to  Education  Department,  1867. 


234  MATTIIKW   AltNOLl) 

"But  in  England  liow  diffrront  is  the  pait  wliicli  in 
this  matter  our  governors  are  accustomed  to  phiy ! 
The  Licensed  Victuallers  or  the  Commercial  Travel- 
lers propose  to  make  a  school  for  their  children,  and 
I  suppose,  in  the  matter  of  schools,  one  may  call  the 
Licensed  Victuallers,  or  the  Commercial  Travellers, 
ordinary  men,  with  their  natural  taste  for  the  bathos 
still  strong.  And  a  sovereign  with  the  advice  of  men 
like  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt  or  Schleiermacher  may, 
in  this  matter,  be  a  better  judge,  and  nearer  to  right 
reason.  And  it  Avill  be  allowed,  probably,  that  riglit 
reason  would  suggest  that  to  have  a  sheer  school  of 
Licensed  Victuallers'  children,  or  a  sheer  school  of 
Commercial  Travellers'  children,  and  to  bring  them 
all  up,  not  only  at  honu'  but  at  school  too,  in  a  kind 
of  odour  of  licensed  victualism  or  bagnumism,  is  not 
a  wise  training  to  give  to  these  children.  And  in 
Germany,  I  have  said,  the  action  of  the  national 
guides  or  governors  is  to  suggest  and  provide  a 
better.  ]^ut,  in  England,  the  action  of  the  national 
guides  or  governors  is,  for  a  IJoyal  Prince  or  a  great 
minister  to  go  down  to  the  opening  of  the  Licensed 
Victuall(M's'  scliudl,  or  of  tlit^  Cituuiiercial  Travellers' 
scliool,  to  lake  tlic  chair,  to  extol  Ww  energ}''  and 
self-reliance  of  the  Licensed  Victuallers  or  the  Com- 
mercial Travellers,  to  be  all  of  their  way  of  think- 
ing, to  predict  full  success  to  their  schools,  and  never  so 
much  as  to  hint  to  them  that  they  are  probably  doing 
a  very  foolish  thing,  and  that  the  right  way  to  go  to 
work  with  their  children's  education  is  (]uite  different.'' ' 

1  Culltiir  (inil  Aiiurcfti/. 


HY^NS  235 

Although,  as  we  have  seen,  Arnold  attached  great 
value  both  to  religion  and  poetry  as  factors  in  national 
education,  there  is  one  particular  attempt  to  combine 
the  two  for  which  he  had  a  curiously  strong,  but  not 
unintelligible,  aversion.  He  greatly  disliked  the 
ordinary  hymns  in  use  in  our  places  of  worship,  and 
thought  the  national  taste  was  degraded  by  the  use 
we  are  accustomed  to  make  of  them. 

"Our  German  kinsmen  and  we  are  the  great  people  for 
hymns.  The  Germans  are  very  proud  of  their  hymns,  and 
we  are  very  proud  of  ours ;  but  it  is  hard  to  say  which  of 
the  two,  the  German  hymn-book  or  ours,  has  least  poetical 
worth  in  itself,  or  does  least  to  prove  genuine  poetical  power 
in  the  people  producing  it.  .  .  .  Only  the  German  race, 
with  its  want  of  quick  instinctive  tact,  of  delicate,  sure  per- 
ception, could  have  invented  the  hymn  as  tlie  Germans  and 
we  have  it:  and  our  non-German  turn  for  style  —  style,  of 
which  the  very  essence  is  a  certain  happy  fineness  and  truth 
of  poetical  perception  —  could  not  but  desert  us  when  our 
German  nature  carried  us  into  a  kind  of  composition  which 
can  please  only  when  the  perception  is  somewhat  blunt. 
Scarcely  any  one  of  us  ever  judges  our  hymns  fairly,  because 
works  of  this  kind  have  two  sides  —  their  side  for  religion 
and  their  side  for  poetry.  Everything  wliich  has  helped  a 
man  in  his  religious  life,  everything  which  associates  itself 
in  his  mind  with  the  growth  of  tiiat  life,  is  beautiful  and 
venerable  to  him  ;  in  this  way,  productions  of  little  or  no 
poetical  value,  like  the  German  hymns  and  ours,  may  come 
to  be  regarded  as  very  precious.  Their  worth  in  this  sense, 
as  means  by  which  we  have  been  edified,  I  do  not  for  a 
moment  hold  cheap  ;  but  there  is  an  edification  proper  to  all 
our  stages  of  development,  the  highest  as  well  as  the  lowest, 
and  it  is  for  man  to  press  on  towards  the  highest  stages  of 
his  development,  with  the  certainty  that  for  those   stages, 


236  MATTHKW   ARNOLD 

too,  means  of  education  will  not  be  found  wanting.  Now 
certainly  it  is  a  higher  state  of  development  when  our 
poetical  perception  is  keen  than  when  it  is  blunt."  * 

And  later  he  says  with  more  decisiou : 

"  Hymns,  such  as  we  know  them,  are  a  sort  of  composi- 
tion which  I  do  not  at  all  admire.  I  freely  say  so  now, 
as  I  have  often  said  it  before.  I  regret  their  ])revalence 
and  popularity  amongst  us..  Taking  man  in  his  totality  and 
in  the  long  run,  bad  music  and  bad  poetry,  to  whatever 
good  and  useful  i)urposes  a  man  may  often  manage  to  turn 
them,  are  in  themselves  mischievous  and  deteriorating  to 
him.  Somewhere  and  somehow,  and  at  some  time  or  other, 
he  has  to  pay  a  penalty  and  to  suffer  a  loss  for  taking 
delight  in  them." 

Dr.  Johnson  had  in  his  life  of  Watts  and  elsewhere 
expressed  the  opinion  that  religious  truths  and  wor- 
ship were  not  the  proper  subjects  for  poetic  treatment, 
and  that  all  devotional  poetry  was  for  this  reason 
more  or  less  unsatisfactory.  "-The  paucity  of  its 
topics  enforces  perpetual  repetition,  aiul  the  sanctity 
of  the  matter  rejects  the  ornaments  of  figurative  dic- 
ti(jn.  It  is  sufficient  for  Watts  to  have  done  better 
than  others  what  no  man  has  done  well." 

Matthew  Arnold,  though  not  entirely  for  the  same 
reason,  disliked  the  current  hymnology.  lie  not  only 
thought  it  contained  bad  poetry,  but  his  fastidious  lit- 
erary taste  and  his  sense  of  humour  revolted  against 
both  its  form  and  its  substance.  And  in  truth  there  is 
much  in  modern  hymn-books  to  justify  his  criticism. 
In  many  hymns  there  is  evident  a  i>ainful  attempt 

1  Study  (./  CfUic  Ltliratnrc. 


RELIGIOUS   POETRY  237 

to  pack  as  much  tlieology  as  possible,  rather  than  to 
raise  religious  emotion  and  to  express  devout  aspi- 
ration. In  many  others  the  language  put  into  the 
worshipper's  mouth  is  sadly  unreal  and  exaggerated, 
expressive  of  a  warmth  and  rapture  which  is  not 
likely  to  be  actually  felt,  and  which  it  is  therefore 
confusing  and  benumbing  to  the  possessor  of  a  healthy 
conscience  to  pretend  to  feel.  And  a  still  larger 
number  of  hymns  will  be  found  to  be  disfigured  by 
false  metaphors,  by  prosaic  and  commonplace  expres- 
sions, and  by  a  complete  absence  of  rhythm  and  poetry. 
Yet  I  think  his  rather  indiscriminate  and  almost  con- 
temptuous judgment  on  religious  poetry  carried  him 
too  far.  The  Psalms  of  David,  the  mediaeval  Latin 
hymns,  such  as  0  sol  salutis  and  the  Dies  irce,  the 
devotional  poetry  of  Wither,  of  Herbert,  of  Milton, 
of  Cowper,  of  Doddridge,  of  Charles  Wesley,  and  of 
Keble,  have  in  successive  ages  of  the  Church  done 
too  much  in  raising  and  ennobling  the  religious  aspi- 
rations of  men  to  be  so  summarily  dismissed.  Even 
John  Henry  Newman,  long  after  his  conversion  to 
the  Eoman  Church,  thus  commented  on  the  influence 
of  Keble's  Christian  Year: 

"  His  poems  became  a  sort  of  comment  upon  the  formu- 
laries and  ordinances  of  the  Anglican  Church,  and  almost 
elevated  them  into  the  dignity  of  a  religious  system.  It 
kindled  hearts  towards  his  Church ;  it  gave  a  something  for 
the  gentle  and  forlorn  to  cling  to,  and  it  raised  up  advocates 
for  it  among  those  who  otherwise,  if  God  and  their  good 
Angel  had  suffered  it,  might  have  wandered  away  into  some 
■sort  of  philosophy  and  acknowledged  no  Church  at  all."  ^ 
1  Newmau's  Essay  Critical  and  Historical,  Vol.  II.,  p.  441. 


238  MATI'lli:\V   AK.NOLI) 

In  fact,  religious  truth  must  ever  be  touclietl  with 
emotion  if  it  is  to  become  a  really  vital  force  in  tlie 
world,  and  when  pure  and  unworldly  strivings  after 
a  higher  life  are  associated  with  musical  words  and  a 
true  poetic  instinct,  the  hymn  becomes  a  real  fac- 
tor in  the  religious  life  and  education  of  the  race. 
YoY  example : 

"O  God,  our  liolp  in  ages  past, 
Our  hope  for  years  to  come, 
Our  shelter  from  the  stormy  blast, 
And  our  eternal  home." 

And  these  musical  lines  tvom  the  Stabat  Mater : 

"Fac  ut  ardeat  cor  mourn, 
In  amando  Christum  Deum, 
Ut  sibi  coniplaceam." 

But  for  all  the  intellectual  and  moral  ailments 
which  he  observed  and  denounced  in  our  social  sys- 
tem, for  the  false  taste,  the  bleakness,  and  the  dulness 
of  middle-class  life,  and  for  tlie  absence  of  lofty  ideals, 
he  had,  as  is  well  known,  one  cure  to  urge.  It  was 
not  a  panacea.  Ihit  it  was  the  best  and  most  potent, 
and  at  the  same  tinn^  the  most  readily  available,  cor- 
rective he  knew.  If  our  middle-class  education  was 
the  worst  in  the  world,  if  it  lacked  dignity,  thonuigh- 
ness,  and  refinement,  the  remedy  Avas  to  ennoble  our 
secondary  schools,  and  the  only  possible  instru- 
ment for  effecting  this  object  was  the  agency  of  the 
State.  From  his  official  iiupiiries  in  foreign  countries 
he  had,  as  we  have  seen,  come  back  with  no  horror 
of  bureaucracy  or  of  a  symmetrical  system  of  jiulilic 


PORRO   UNUM   EST   NECESSARIUM  239 

instruction.  He  thouglit  that  Englishmen  had  car- 
ried their  love  of  freedom  and  of  local  and  voluntary- 
initiative  in  this  matter  too  far,  and  that  we  were  all 
suffering  for  it.  He  believed  that  the  ideal  of  a  good 
and  generous  education  likely  to  be  formed  by  respon- 
sible statesmen  and  enlightened  administrators  at 
headquarters  was  likely  to  prove  in  the  long  run 
higher  and  truer  than  that  formed  by  vestries,  town 
councils,  sectarian  committees,  and  local  boards.  The 
phantom  of  centralization  did  not  frighten  him,  pro- 
vided that  State  agency  maintained  a  due  regard  to 
the  genius,  the  feelings,  the  history  and  traditions 
and  religious  convictions,  of  the  community.  So  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  with  a  voice  like  that,  as  he 
was  wont  to  confess,  "of  one  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness," he  constantly  insisted  on  the  need  of  attention 
to  our  great  national  defect.  "  Porro  umoii  est  neces-  ff 
sarium.  One  thing  is  needful.  Organize  your  sec-. 
ondary  education." 

The  powers,  he  was  fond  of  saying,  which  contribute 
to  build  up  human  civilization  are  the  power  of  con- 
duct, the  power  of  intellect  and  knowledge,  the  power 
of  beauty,  the  power  of  social  life  and  manners. 
Expansion,  conduct,  science,  beauty,  manners,  —  here 
are  the  conditions  of  civilization,  the  claimants  which 
man  must  satisfy  before  he  can  be  humanized. 

He  was  not  sanguine  about  the  immediate  result  of 
his  preaching  on  this  subject.  In  his  well-known 
lecture,  " Ecce  convertimur  ad  gentes,"  addressed  to 
the  members  of  a  Workingmeu's  College,  he  says 
mournfully  that  "the  one  step  towards  that  general 


240  MATTHEW   AliXOLl) 

improvement  in  our  civilization  which  it  is  the  object 
of  all  cultivating  of  our  intelligence  to  bring  about, 
the  establishment  of  a  genuine  municipal  system  for 
the  whole  country,  will  hardly  perhaps  come  in  our 
time  ;  men's  minds  have  not  yet  been  sufficiently 
turned  to  it  for  that."  J  hit  subsequent  events  have 
shown  that  he  undervalued  the  force  and  influence  of 
his  own  crusade.  In  all  later  educational  controversies, 
in  Parliament,  at  the  Universities,  at  Congresses,  in 
meetings  of  teachers,  and  in  the  evidence  and  reports 
issued  by  Royal  Commissions,  his  words  have  been  con- 
stantly quoted,  his  facts  referred  to,  and  his  authority 
invoked.  Notably,  the  Report  of  the  Royal  Commis- 
sion on  Secondary  Instruction,  which  was  issued  in 
1895,  proceeds  to  a  large  extent  on  lines  which  he  was 
the  first  to  trace,  and  recommends  a  policy  which  would 
have  gone  far  to  realize  his  hopes.  And  in  the  near 
future  when  English  statesmen  rouse  themselves  to  a 
])erce})tion  of  the  need  of  a  coherent  and  well-ordered 
system  of  secondary  schools,  in  which  due  regard  shall 
be  had  not  only  to  tlie  claims  of  active  life,  but  to  the 
liigher  claims  of  tlie  inner  life  for  expansion  and  for 
l)uritication,  the  result  will  be  largely  owing  to  the 
stimulus  which  his  writings  afforded  and  to  the  high 
and  generous  conception  he  had  formed  of  the  ends 
which  ought  to  be  attained  in  a  liberal  education, 
and  of  the  sjnrit  in  which  we  ought  to  pursue  them. 


CHAPTER   XII 

Arnold  as  a  literary  critic,  a  humorist,  and  as  a  poet  — Criticism  and 
its  functions  —  Comparison  with  Sainte  Beuve  —  Examples  of  his 
critical  judgments  — Homer,  Pope,  and  Dryden,  Byron,  Words- 
wortli,  Kurke,  Tennyson,  Charlotte  Bronte,  and  Macaulay — The 
gift  of  humour  indispensable  to  a  critic  —  English  newspapers  — 
The  Tcl''f/r<iph  a.ml  the  Times  —  His  American  experiences  —  His 
personal  charm  —  Tributes  of  Mr.  John  Morley,  Augustine  Bir- 
rell,  and  William  Watson  —  Poems  —  Arnold's  place  as  a  poet  — 
Examples  of  his  poems  —  General  estimate  of  his  own  and  his 
father's  services  to  English  education  — Rugby  Chapel 

Outside  the  world  of  schools  and  Universities 
Matthew  Arnold  is  better  known,  and  is  likely  to  be 
longer  remembered,  as  a  literary  critic  and  as  a  poet, 
than  as  an  official  or  as  an  advocate  of  improved 
public  instruction.  He  was  especially  noticeable  for 
the  importance  lie  attached  to  just  criticism  in  rela- 
tion to  books  and  to  life.  He  tliought  it  the  main 
function  of  a  true  critic  first  to  know  and  then  to  set 
up  a  high  standard  of  literary  style  and  finish,  and  to 
judge  all  books  by  that  standard.  Criticism,  he  said, 
is  the  disinterested  endeavour  to  learn  and  propagate 
the  best  that  is  known  or  thought  in  the  world.  It 
was  the  business  of  a  critic  to  detect  and  to  expose 
insincerity,  vulgarity,  the  mere  watchwords  of  parties 
and  cliques,  and  in  particular  the  slovenly  and  pre- 
tentious use  of  terms  and  phrases  which  were  only 
half  understood. 

Arnold  greatly  valued  and  admired  the  influence 
R  241 


242  MATTHHW    AKNoLI) 

of  the  French  Academy:  "a  sovereign  organ  of  the 
highest  literary  opinion,  a  recognized  authority  in 
matters  of  intellectual  tone  and  taste."  Every  one 
who  knows  what  it  is  to  take  up  a  French  book  wliicli 
has  been  couronne  by  the  Academy,  knows  what  this 
safeguard  means.  He  thought  that  the  corporation 
of  forty  of  the  most  eminent  French  writers  exercised 
great  power  iu  preserving  the  purity  of  their  language, 
encouraging  learning,  and  setting  up  before  the  whole 
nation  a  high  ideal  of  beauty  and  perfection  of  style. 
Yet  he  doubted  the  wisdom  of  any  attempt  to  intro- 
duce such  an  institution  into  England,  and  he  thought 
our  faults  were  not  to  be  cured  by  that  method. 

"  It  is  constantly  said  that  I  want  to  introduce  here  an 
institution  hkc  the  French  Academy.  I  have,  indeed, 
expressly  declared  tliat  I  wanted  no  such  thing.  But  k^t 
me  notice  how  it  is  just  our  worship  of  machinery,  and 
of  external  doing,  which  leads  to  this  charge  being  brought ; 
and  how  the  inwardness  of  culture  would  make  us  seize,  for 
watching  and  cure,  the  faults  to  which  our  want  of  an 
Academy  inclines  us,  and  yet  prevent  us  from  trusting  to 
an  arm  of  flesh  —  as  the  Puritans  say;  from  Windly  flying 
to  this  outward  machinery  of  an  Academy  in  ordvr  to  help 
ourselves.  .  .  .  Every  one  who  knows  the  charaeteristii-s 
of  our  national  life,  knows  exactly  what  an  English  Academy 
would  be  like.  Wc  can  see  the  hapi)y  family  in  one's  mind's 
eye  as  di.^tinctly  as  it"  it  were  already  constituted.  Lord 
Stanhoi)e,^  the  Deiui  of  St.  Paul's,-  the  Pishop  of  Oxford,^' 
Lord  Houghton,  Mr.  (Madstone,  the  Dean  of  Westminster,* 
Mr.  Froudc,'  Mr.  Henry  Reeve"  —  everything  which  is  influ- 

1  The  late  Lord  Stanhope.  ^  The  historian. 

2  The  late  Dean  Miliuaii.  •>  Late  editor  of  the  Kdinburyh 
«  Tlie  late  Bishop  Will)erforce.  livvU'to. 

*  The  late  Dean  Stanley. 


(UNIVERRI' 
SAINTE    BEUVE  V  C^l^rORNlA- 


ential,  accomplished,  and  distinguished  ;  and  then,  some  fine 
morning,  a  dissatisfection  of  the  public  mind  with  this 
brilliant  and  select  coterie,  a  flight  of  Corinthian  leading 
articles,  and  an  irniption  of  Mr.  G.  A.  Sala.  Clearly  this 
is  not  what  will  do  us  good.  The  very  same  faults  —  the 
want  of  sensitiveness  of  intellectual  conscience,  the  disbelief 
in  right  reason,  the  dislike  of  authority  —  which  have  hin- 
dered our  having  an  Academy  and  have  worked  injuriously 
in  our  literature,  would  also  hinder  us  from  making  our 
Academy,  if  we  established  it,  one  which  would  really 
correct  them."^ 

But  in  the  absence  of  any  such  recognized  authority 
he  regarded  the  function  of  the  literary  critic  as  one 
of  high  value.  One  of  the  most  interesting  acquaint- 
ances he  ever  made  was  that  of  Sainte  Beuve,  the 
accomplished  author  of  the  Ccmiieries  de  Lnndi,  whose 
works  he  greatly  admired  and  whom  he  met  more  than 
once  in  Paris.  Of  him  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters: 
"  Sainte  Beuve  gave  me  an  excellent  dinner  and  was 
in  full  vein  of  conversation,  which  as  his  conversation 
is  about  the  best  to  be  heard  in  France  w^as  chai'ming. 
...  I  staid  with  him  till  midnight,  and.  would  not 
have  missed  my  evening  for  the  w^orld.  I  think  he 
likes  me,  and  likes  my  caring  so  much  about  his 
criticisms  and  appreciating  his  extraordinary  delicacy 
of  tact  and  judgment  in  literature."  Later,  when 
Arnold  contributed  to  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica  a 
memoir  of  his  friend,  he  used  language  which  with 
little  qualification  might  not  inappropriately  be  ap- 
plied to  himself: 

1  Culture  and  Anarchy. 


244  MAlllIEW   AKNnLl) 

"  He  was  a  critic  of  measure,  not  exuberant,  of  the  centre, 
not  provincial,  of  keen  industry  and  curiosity,  with  Trutii 
(the  word  engraved  in  English  on  his  seal)  for  his  motto ; 
moreover,  with  gay  and  amiable  temper,  liis  manner  as  good 
as  his  matter  —  the  ''critique  muriant,'  as  in  Monselet's  dedi- 
cation to  him  he  is  called.  It  so  happens  that  tlie  great  place 
of  France  in  the  world  is  very  nuicli  due  to  her  eminent  gift 
for  social  life  and  development,  and  tliis  gift  French  litera- 
ture has  accompanied,  fashioned,  perfected,  and  continues  to 
reflect.  This  gives  a  special  interest  to  Frencli  literature, 
and  an  interest  independent  even  of  the  excellence  of  indi- 
vidual French  writers,  high  as  that  office  is.  And  nowhere 
shall  we  find  such  interest  more  completely  and  charmingly 
brought  out  than  in  the  Causerits  ile  Lumli  of  this  con- 
summmate  critic.  As  a  guide  to  bring  us  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  Frencli  genius  and  literature,  he  is  unrivalled,  i)erfect 
—  so  far  as  a  poor  mortal  critic  can  be  perfect  — ■  in  judg- 
ment, in  tact  and  tone."  ' 

There  was  much  in  the  serene  intellectual  detach- 
ment of  Marcus  Aurelius  which  to  the  last  ai)pealed 
powerfully  to  Arnold's  sympathy.  "We  are  all," 
says  the  Imperial  Philosopher,  "  working  together  to 
one  end,  some  with  knowledge  and  design,  and  others 
without  knowing  what  they  do.  r>ut  men  co-operate 
after  dirfcrcnt  fashions  and  even  those  co-operate 
abundantly  who  hnd  fault  with  what  happens  and 
those  who  try  to  oppose  it,  and  to  hinder  it;  for  the 
Universe  hath  need  of  such  men  as  these."  .  .  . 
"  Reverence  that  which  is  best  in  the  Universe,  and  in 
like  manner  reverence  that  which  is  best  in  thyself." 

Herein   we  are  reminded  of  the  apostolic  injunc- 

'  Kncycloprilht  liritunuica. 


POETIC   CRITICISM  245 

tion :  "  Covet  earnestly  the  best  gifts !  "  This  was  the 
gist  of  Aruokl's  teaching  in  regard  to  literature.  And 
he  devoted  much  of  his  keen  insight  and  line  and 
somewhat  fastidious  taste  to  the  task  of  helping  his 
countrymen  to  distinguish  the  good  from  the  bad,  the 
noble  from  the  ignoble,  the  ephemeral  from  the  endur- 
ing, in  what  they  read.  And  if  in  doing  this  he  made 
us  profoundly  dissatisfied  with  ourselves  and  with 
much  of  our  current  literature,  he  could  not  help  it, 
and  would  not  have  helped  it  if  he  could.  His  lect- 
ures delivered  at  Oxford  on  Translatinrj  Homer,  and 
his  Study  of  Celtic  Literature,  are  full  of  just  and 
subtle  criticism,  and  of  comparisons  between  ancient 
and  modern  writing,  which  are  not  always  flattering 
to  ourselves,  but  are  always  worth  remembering.  For 
example,  take  these  remarks  on  Homer  and  the  grand 
style : 

"  The  ballad-manner  and  the  ballad-measure,  whether  in 
the  hands  of  the  old  ballad  poets,  or  arranged  by  Chapman 
or  arranged  by  Mr.  Newman,  or  even  arranged  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  cannot  worthily  render  Homer.  And  for  one  reason, 
Homer  is  plain,  so  are  they ;  Homer  is  natural,  so  are  they  ; 
Homer  is  spirited,  so  are  they ;  but  Homer  is  substantially 
noble,  and  they  are  not.  Homer  and  they  are  both  of  them 
natural,  and  therefore  touching  and  stirring ;  but  the  grand 
style  which  is  Homer's  is  something  more  than  touching 
and  stirring ;  it  can  form  the  character ;  it  is  edifying. 
The  old  English  balladist  may  stir  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  heart 
like  a  trumpet,  and  this  is  much  ;  but  Homer,  like  the  few 
artists  in  the  grand  style,  can  do  more ;  they  can  refine  the 
raw  natural  man ;  they  can  transmute  him.  So  it  is  not 
without  cause  that  I  say  and  say  again  to  the  translator  of 


246  .MATllIKW   AKNol.l) 

Hoincr:  never  for  :i  iiioinent  siitter  yourself  to  forget  our 
fiindainental  i)roi>o.sition,  Homer  is  iKible.  'For  it  is  seen 
how  large  a  share  this  nobleness  has  in  producing  that 
general  effect  of  his,  which  it  is  the  main  business  of  a 
translator  to  ?-eprocluce." ' 

What,  too,  can  be  happier  than  some  of  his  critical 
judgments?  For  example,  this  on  Wordsworth  and 
Byron :    from  his  Essays  in  Criticism. 

"  Wordsworth  has  an  insight  into  permanent  sources  of 
joy  and  consolation  for  mankind  which  Byron  has  not ;  his 
poetry  gives  us  more  which  we  may  rest  upon  than  Byron's 
—  more  which  we  can  rest  upon  now,  and  which  men  may 
rest  upon  always.  I  i)lacc  Wordsworth's  poetry,  therefore, 
above  Byron's  on  the  whole,  although  in  some  jwints  he 
was  greatly  Byron's  inferior,  and  although  Byron's  jwetry 
will  always,  probably,  find  more  readers  than  Wordsworth's, 
and  will  give  pleasure  more  easily.  But  these  two,  Words- 
worth and  Byron,  stand,  it  seems  to  me,  first  and  jjre-eminent 
in  actual  performance,  a  glorious  pair,  among  the  English 
poets  of  this  century.  Keats  had  probably,  indeed,  a  more 
consummate  ])octic  gift  than  either  of  them  ;  but  he  died 
having  produced  too  little,  and  being  as  yet  too  iuunature  to 
rival  them.  I  for  my  part  can  never  even  think  of  equalling 
with  them  any  other  of  their  contemporaries,  — either  Cole- 
ridge, j)oet  and  phi]()soj)lier,  wrecked  in  a  nnst  of  opium  ;  or 
Shelley,  beautifid  and  ineffectual  angel,  beating  in  tlie  void 
his  luminous  wings  in  vain.  Wordsworth  and  Byron  stand 
out  by  themselves.  When  the  year  1900  is  turned,  ai:d  our 
nation  comes  to  recount  her  ])oetic  glories  in  the  century 
wliicii  has  just  ended,  the  first  names  will  be  these.'' 

Dryden  and  Pope  he  regarded  with  admiration,  but 
rather  as  skilful  versifiers  and  the  founders  of  classic 

1  Oil  Tninslafiiir/  Homer,  Locluro  II.,  p.  W. 


DRYDEN,    rOPE,    BYRON,    WORDSWORTH       247 

prose  than  as  inspired  poets.  He  saw  clearly  their 
limitations  AVhen  he  came  to  compare  them  with 
Chaucer,  with  Milton,  or  with  Wordsworth. 

"  AVe  are  to  regard  Dryden  as  the  i^uissant  and  glorious 
founder,  Pope  as  the  splendid  high  priest,  of  our  age  of 
prose  and  reason,  of  our  excellent  and  indispensable  eigh- 
teenth century.  For  the  purposes  of  their  mission  and  des- 
tiny their  poetry,  like  their  prose,  is  admirable.  Do  you 
ask  me  whether  Dryden's  verse,  take  it  almost  where  you 
will,  is  not  good  1 

"  'A  milk-white  Hind  immortal  and  unchanged, 
Fed  on  tlie  lawns,  and  in  the  forest  ranged.' 

I  answer :  Admirable  for  the  purposes  of  an  inaugurator  of 
an  age  of  prose  and  reason.  Do  you  ask  me  whether  Pope's 
verse,  take  it  almost  where  you  will,  is  not  good  ? 

" '  To  Hounslow  Heath,  I  point,  and  Banstead  Down, 
Thence  comes  your  mutton,  and  these  chicks  my  own.' 

I  answer :  Admirable  for  the  purposes  of  a  high  priest  of 
an  age  of  prose  and  reason.  But  do  you  ask  me  whether 
such  verse  proceeds  from  men  with  an  adequate  poetic  criti- 
cism of  life?  from  men  whose  criticism  of  hfe  has  a  high 
seriousness,  or,  even  without  that  high  seriousness,  has 
poetic  largeness,  freedom,  insight,  benignity  1  Do  you  ask 
me  whether  the  application  of  ideas  to  life  in  the  verse  of 
tliese  men,  often  a  powerful  application,  no  doubt,  is  a  pow- 
erful poetic  application  ?  Dcy  you  ask  me  whether  the  poetry 
of  these  men  has  either  the  matter  or  the  inseparable  manner 
of  such  an  adequate  poetic  criticism  ?  whether  it  has  the 
accent  of 

"  'Absent  thee  from  felicity  awhile  .  .  .' 
or  of 

"  '  And  what  is  else  not  to  be  overcome  .  .  .' 
or  of 

"  '  0  martyr  souded  in  virginitee  ! ' 


248  MATIIIKW  AUNoM) 

I  answer:  It  lias  nut,  and  can  lutt  have  them;  it  is  the 
poetry  of  the  buiklers  of  an  age  of  prose  and  reason. 
Though  they  may  write  in  verse,  thougli  tliey  may  in  a  cer- 
tain sense  be  masters  of  the  art  of  versification,  Dryden  and 
Pope  are  not  classics  of  our  poetry  :  they  are  classics  of  our 
prose." 

Of  Gray,  too,  his  appreciation  is  as  guarded  aud 
careful  as  it  is  generous  and  just. 

"  Gray  is  our  poetical  classic  of  that  literature  and  age. 
The  position  of  Gray  is  singular  and  demands  a  word  of 
notice  here.  He  has  not  the  volume  or  the  power  of  poets 
who,  coming  in  times  more  favourable,  have  attained  to  an 
independent  criticism  of  life.  But  he  lived  with  the  great 
poets ;  he  lived,  above  all,  with  the  Greeks,  though  perpet- 
ually studying  and  enjoying  tliem ;  and  he  caught  their 
poetic  point  of  view  for  regarding  life,  caught  their  poetic 
manner.  The  jjoint  of  view  and  the  manner  are  not  self- 
sprung  in  him,  he  caught  them  of  otiicrs,  and  he  had  not 
the  free  and  abundant  use  of  them.  But  whereas  Addison 
and  Pope  never  liad  the  use  of  them,  Gray  had  tlie  use  of 
them  at  times.  He  is  the  scantiest  and  frailest  of  classics 
in  our  poetry,  but  he  is  a  classic."' 

To  another  poet,  Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  whose  early 
promise  was  never  fully  realized,  but  to  whose  genius 
Arnold's  own  was  in  nuiny  respects  akin,  lie  pays  in 
Thyrsis  an  affectionate  tribute,  which  after  Lycidas 
is  one  of  the  noblest  elegiac  poems  in  our  language. 
He  also  makes  in  one  of  his  lectures  a  critical  refer- 
ence especially  worth  transcribing  here,  because  it 
indicates  his  own  exalteil  conception  of  the  aims  of 
the  true  poet. 

i  Estiuijs  in  Criticism,  Second  Series. 


MILTON  249 

"He  possessed  two  iuvaluable  literary  qualities — a  true 
for  his  object  of  study  and  a  siugle-hearted  care  for  it. 
He  had  both :  but  he  had  the  second  even  more  eminently 
than  the  first.  He  greatly  developed  the  first  through 
means  of  the  second.  In  the  study  of  art,  poetry,  or  phi- 
losophy, he  had  the  most  undivided  and  disinterested  love 
for  his  object  in  itself  and  the  greatest  aversion  to  mixing 
up  with  it  anything  accidental  or  personal.  ^His  interest 
was  in  literature  itself,  and  it  was  this  which  gave  so  rare 
a  stamp  to  his  character,  which  kept  him  so  free  from  all 
taint  of  littleness.  In  the  saturnalia  of  ignoble  personal 
passions,  of  which  the  struggle  for  literary  success  in  old 
and  crowded  communities  offers  so  sad  a  spectacle,  he  never 
mingled.  He  had  not  yet  traduced  his  friends,  nor  flattered 
his  enemies,  nor  disparaged  what  he  admired,  nor  praised 
what  he  despised.  Those  who  knew  him  well  had  the  con- 
viction that  even  with  time,  these  literary  arts  would  never 
be  his.  His  poem  has  some  admirable  Homeric  qualities 
—  out  of  door  freshness,  life,  naturalness,  buoyant  rapidity. 
Some  of  the  expressions  in  that  poem  Dangerous  Corrie- 
vreckan  come  back  to  my  ear  now  with  the  tiiie  Homeric 
ring.  I  But  that  in  him  of  which  I  think  oftenest  is  the 
Homeric  simplicity  of  his  literary  life.'' 

Arnold's  estimate  of  Milton  also  is  characterized 
by  a  generous  appreciation  and  by  keen  critical  dis- 
cernment.    For  example : 

"  Milton's  true  distinction  as  a  poet,  for  example,  is  un- 
doubtedly his  unfailing  level  of  style.  Milton  has  always 
the  sure,  strong  touch  of  the  master.  His  power  both  of 
diction  and  of  rhythm  is  unsurpassable,  and  it  is  character- 
ized by  being  always  present  —  not  depending  on  an  access 
of  emotion,  not  intermittent,  but,  like  the  pace  of  Raphael, 
working  in  its  possessor  as  a  constant  gift  of  nature.  .  .  . 
Shakespeare  himself,   divine   as  are   his  gifts,   has   not,  of 


250  IMAITIIEW   AKNOLD 

the  marks  of  the  nnister,  this  one  -  perfect  surenoss  of 
hand  in  his  style.  Alone  of  English  poets,  alone  of  Eng- 
lish art,  Milton  has  it.  He  is  our  great  artist  in  style, 
our  one  first-rate  master  in  the  grand  style.  He  is  sus 
truly  a  master  in  this  style  as  the  great  Greeks  are,  or 
Virgil,  or  Dante.  The  number  of  such  masters  is  so  limited 
that  a  man  acquires  a  world  rank  in  poetry  and  art,  instead 
of  a  mere  local  rank,  by  being  counted  among  them.  But 
Milton's  importance  to  us  Englishmen,  by  virtue  of  this  dis- 
tinction of  his,  is  incalculable.  The  charm  of  a  master's 
unfailing  touch  in  diction  and  in  rhythm,  no  one,  after  all, 
can  feel  so  intimately,  so  profoundly,  as  his  own  country- 
men. Invention,  plan,  wit,  patho.s,  thought — all  of  them 
are  in  great  measure  capable  of  being  detached  from  the 
original  work  itself,  and  of  being  exported  for  atlmiration 
abroad  :  diction  and  rhythm  are  not." ' 

In  a  striking  letter  to  M.  Fontanes  there  is  an  inci- 
dental allusion  to  Burke,  which  will  show  how  power- 
fully Arnold  had  been  impressed  with  the  grave 
wisdom,  and  yet  with  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  the 
somewhat  limited  foresight,  of  that  statesman. 

"  Burke,  like  Wordsworth,  is  a  great  force  in  that  epoch 
of  concentration,  as  I  call  it,  which  arose  in  England  in 
opposition  to  the  epoch  of  expansion  declaring  itself  in  the 
French  Revoluticm.  The  old  order  of  things  had  not  the 
virtue  which  Burke  supjiosed.  The  Revolution  had  not 
the  banefulness  which  he  su{)posed.  But  neither  wa.s  the 
Revolution  the  conunencement,  as  its  friends  su|)i>o.sed,  of  a 
reign  of  justice  and  virtue.  It  was  much  ratlier,  as  Scherer 
has  called  it,  '  un  dechainement  d'instincts  confus,  un 
aveugle  et  immense  besoin  de  renouvellement.'  An  e])och 
of  concentration  and  of  resistance  to  the  crude  and  violent 

1  Mixed  Essays. 


BURKE,   TENNYSON  251 

people  who  were  for  imposing  their  '  renouvellement '  on  the 
rest  of  the  world  by  force  was  natural  and  necessary.  Burke 
is  to  be  conceived  as  the  great  voice  of  this  epoch.  He 
carried  his  country  with  him,  and  was  in  some  sort  a  provi- 
dential person.  But  he  did  harm  as  well  as  good,  for  he 
made  concentration  too  dominant  an  idea  with  us,  and  an 
idea  of  which  the  reign  was  unduly  prolonged.  The  time 
for  expansion  must  come,  and  Burke  is  of  little  help  to  us 
in  presence  of  such  a  time.  But  in  his  sense  of  the  crudity 
and  tyranny  of  the  French  revolutionists,  I  do  not  think  he 
was  mistaken."^ 

Scattered  up  and  down  his  writings  and  his  familiar 
letters  are  many  passages  of  this  kind,  showing  a 
genuine  and  hearty  appreciation  of  excellence  in  style 
or  in  thought.  But  the  reader  will  often  find  to 
his  surprise  some  outspoken  dissent  from  the  popu- 
lar estimate  even  of  the  most  admired  of  modern 
authors.  For  example,  he  never  indulges  in  any  rapt- 
ures about  Tennyson,  the  beauty  and  finish  and  the 
musical  quality  of  whose  verse  did  not  reconcile 
Arnold  to  a  certain  thinness  and  want  of  force  in  his 
writings.  "The  fault  I  find  with  Tennyson  in  his 
Idylls  of  the  King,  is  that  the  peculiar  charm  and 
aroma  of  the  Middle  Ages  he  does  not  give  in  them. 
.  .  .  The  real  truth  is  that  Tennyson,  with  all  his 
temperament  and  artistic  skill,  is  deficient  in  intel- 
lectual power,  and  no  modern  poet  can  make  very 
much  of  his  business  unless  he  is  pre-eminently 
strong  in  this."^  Thackeray  he  did  not  regard  as  a 
great  writer,  and   of  Charlotte  Bronte's   ViUette  he 

1  Letters,  Jan.  21,  1880. 

2  Letter,  Dec.  17,  1860. 


252  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

expressed  liimself  witli  unwonted  severity.  "  No  fine 
writing  can  hide  her  faults.  These  will  be  fatal  to 
her  in  the  long  run."  ^ 

And  of  Macaulay's  style  he  says : 

"  Its  external  characteristic  is  a  liard  metallic  movement, 
with  nothing  of  the  soft  play  of  life,  and  its  internal  char- 
acteristic is  a  perpetual  semblance  of  hitting  the  right  nail 
on  the  head  without  the  reality." - 

"  Macaulay's  view  of  things  is,  on  the  whole,  the  view  of 
them  which  the  middle-class  reader  feels  to  be  his  own  also. 
Tlie  persons  and  causes  praised  are  tho.se  which  he  himself 
is  disposed  to  admire  ;  tlie  persons  and  causes  blamed  are 
those  with  which  he  himself  is  o\it  of  sympathy.  The  rhetoric 
employed  to  praise  or  to  blame  them  is  animating  and  excel- 
lent. Macaulay  is  thus  a  great  civilizer.  In  hundreds  of 
men  he  hits  their  nascent  taste  for  tlie  things  of  tlie  mind, 
possesses  himself  of  it  and  stimulates  it,  draws  it  power- 
fully forth  and  confirms  it.  .  .  .  At  this  stage  rhetoric, 
even  when  it  is  so  good  as  Macaulay's,  di.ssatisfies.  And 
the  number  of  people  who  have  reached  this  stage  of  mental 
growth  is  constantly,  as  things  are  now,  increasing ;  in- 
creasing by  the  very  same  law  of  progress  which  plants  the 
beginnings  of  mental  life  in  more  and  more  persons  who, 
luitil  now,  have  never  known  mental  life  at  all.  80  that 
while  the  number  of  those  wlio  are  delighted  with  rhetoric 
such  as  Macaulay's  is  always  im-reasing,  the  number  of 
tliDSc  wiio  arc  dissatislicd  with  it  is  always  increasing  too."  ^ 

On  tlie  whole  it  may  be  safely  said  that  of  all  the 
literary  critics  of  our  time,  none  have  done  more  tlian 
Arnold  to  purify  the  national  taste,  to  help  lucii  in 

1  Letter,  .\\>\\\  ID,  isr,:\.     -  Fri<-ii<l.i/iiii's  (laihind.     •"'  Mixi'd  Fusni/s. 


MR.  GEORGE   RUSSELL'S   ESTIMATE  253 

admiring  what  is  admirable,  and  in  eschewing  what 
is  tawdry  and  meretricious  in  literature.  A  sentence 
from  the  generous  and  affectionate  estimate  made  by 
Mr.  George  Russell,  in  the  charming  little  monograph 
which  was  privately  printed  in  1889,  may  be  not 
improperly  reproduced  here,  and  will  not  by  any  real 
student  of  Arnold's  writings  be  foiind  to  err  by  ex- 
aggeration or  by  a  too  indulgent  memory. 

"As  a  literary  critic,  his  taste,  his  temper,  his 
judgment  were  pretty  nearly  infallible.  He  com- 
bined a  loyal  and  reasonable  submission  to  literary 
authority  with  a  free  and  even  daring  use  of  private 
judgment.  His  admiration  for  the  acknowledged 
masters  of  human  utterance  —  Homer,  Sophocles, 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  Goethe  —  was  genuine  and  en- 
thusiastic, and  incomparably  better  informed  than 
that  of  some  more  conventional  critics.  Yet  this  cor- 
dial submission  to  recognized  authority,  this  honest 
loyalty  to  established  reputation,  did  not  blind  him 
to  defects,  did  not  seduce  him  into  indiscriminate 
praise,  did  not  deter  him  from  exposing  the  tendency 
to  verbiage  in  Burke  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  the  exces- 
sive blankness  of  much  of  Wordsworth's  blank  verse, 
the  undercurrent  of  mediocrity  in  Macaulay,  the 
absurdities  of  Mr.  E,uskin's  etymology.  And,  as  in 
great  matters,  so  in  small.  Whatever  literary  pro- 
duction was  brought  under  Matthew  Arnold's  notice, 
his  judgment  was  clear,  sympathetic,  and  indepen- 
dent. He  had  the  readiest  appreciation  of  true  excel- 
lence, a  quick  eye  for  minor  merits  of  facility  and 
method,  a  severe  intolerance  of  tiirgidity  and  inflation 


254  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

—  of  Avhat  he  called  'endeavours  to  render  a  platitude 
endurable  by  making  it  pompous, '  and  a  lively  horror 
of  affectation  and  unreality.  These,  in  literature  as 
in  life,  Avere  in  his  eyes  the  unpardonable  sins." ' 

The  gift  of  humour  is  a  saving  grace  for  its  pos- 
sessor, whatever  his  duties  or  pursuits  may  be.  Even 
a  lawyer,  a  clergyman,  or  a  historian  who  possesses 
it  is  saved  thereby  from  many  mistakes  and  does  his 
work  the  better  for  having  it.  To  the  literary  critic 
it  is  indispensable.  Without  it,  he  is  in  constant 
danger  of  seeing  things  in  false  perspective  and  of 
failing  to  detect  latent  absurdities  and  to  discriminate 
lesser  from  greater  faults.  It  is  not  a  gift  which  can 
be  communicated,  or  can  be  secured  by  learning  rules. 
It  is  certainly  not  a  hereditary  gift,  for  Arnold's 
father  was  curiously  deficient  in  it.  In  the  son  it 
did  not  reveal  itself  in  the  form  of  merriment  or 
fun,  but  rather  in  the  keener  perception  of  what  was 
unreal,  tawdry,  or  pretentious,  in  a  genial  sympathy, 
in  genera^  openness  of  mind,  and  in  the  capacity  for 
seeing  significant  and  insignificant  details  in  their 
true  proportion.  A  marked  example  of  the  use  of 
this  power  is  to  be  found  in  the  pi*efaces  to  two  little 
volumes  of  Extracts  from  the  poems  of  Wordsworth 
and  of  Byron.  He  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  the 
former  had  been  led  by  his  love  of  simplicity  and  his 
lack  of  humour  to  write  much  tliat  was  flat  and  com- 
monplace, and  tliat  the  poems  of  tlie  latter  wore  often 
disfigured  by  hanalites  uuAvorthy  of  his  genius.  But 
he  admired  and  a])])reeiated  both  ]u)<>ts,  and  he  sought 

1  Mr.  (!.  W.  K.  Russell's  "  iiiciiioi-iiil  skcU'li." 


THE   TIMES   NEWSPAPER  255 

to  pick  out  of  tlieir  writings  that  Avork  whicli  was  of 
finest  quality  and  which  best  deserved  to  survive. 

Wlien  rebuked  by  one  of  his  critics  for  the  light 
raillery  and  vivacity  with  which  he  often  treated 
serious  subjects,  he  replied:  "We  are  none  of  us 
likely  to  be  lively  much  longer.  My  vivacity  is  but 
the  last  sparkle  of  flame  before  we  are  all  in  the 
dark,  the  last  glimpse  of  colour  before  Ave  all  go  into 
the  drab,  the  drab  of  the  earnest,  prosaic,  practical, 
austerely  literal  future.  Yes,  the  world  will  soon  be 
the  Philistines,  and  then  with  every  voice  not  of 
thunder  silenced,  and  the  whole  earth  filled  and 
ennobled  every  morning  by  the  magnificent  roaring 
of  the  young  lions  of  the  Daily  Telegraph,  we  shall 
all  yawn  in  one  another's  faces  with  the  dismallest, 
the  most  unimpeacha])le  gravity."  ^ 

After  a  discussion  of  the  meaning  of  tlie  Zeit- 
geist, and  the  tendencies  of  the  modern  movement, 
halting  and  uncertain  as  it  is,  towards  perfection  and 
a  higher  life,  he  thus  speaks  of  England'*  favourite 
oracle,  the  Times  newspaper : 

"  What  is  the  '  Times  '  ?  —  a  gigantic  Sancho  Panza  fol- 
lowing by  an  attraction  he  cannot  resist  that  poor,  mad, 
scorned,  suffering,  subhnie  enthusiast,  the  modern  spirit; 
following  it,  indeed,  with  constant  grumbling,  expostvdation, 
and  opposition,  with  airs  of  protection,  of  compassionate 
superiority,  witli  an  incessant  by-play  of  nods,  shrugs,  and 
winks  addressed  to  tlie  spectators  ;  following  it,  in  short, 
with  all  the  incurable  recalcitrancy  of  a  lower  nature,  but 
still  following  it."  ^ 

1  Essays  in  Criticism.  ^  FrieiuJshiifs  Garland. 


256  MATTIIHW   ARNOLD 

Notable,  too,  is  the  delicate  j^^rsijlage  with  which 
he  referred  to  Frederick  Maurice,  for  whom,  never- 
theless, he  had  a  real  admiration,  as  one  who  was 
"  for  ever  beating  the  bush  with  profound  emotion, 
but  never  starting  the  hare,"  and  to  some  of  the 
forms  of  what  he  called  "pugilistic  dissent,"  as 
exhibited  in  the  arena  of  Birmingham.  Even  ortho- 
dox Churchmen  were  more  amused  tlian  scandalized 
by  the  well-known  sentences  in  which  he  summed  up 
his  investigation  of  the  meaning  and  history  of  the 
three  Christian  creeds;  "The  Apostles'  as  popular 
science,  the  '  Nicene '  as  learned  science,  and  the 
'Athanasian  '  as  learned  science  with  a  strong  dash  of 
temper  in  it." 

Many  of  liis  severest  judgments  were  passed  u})on 
contemporaries  whose  names  have  already  faded  into 
oblivion,  but  who  seemed  to  him  representatives  of 
some  passing  and  censurable  phase  of  morals  or  poli- 
tics. Though  liberal  in  his  convictions,  he  was  not  a 
party  man,  and  his  satire  was  directed  impartially  to 
the  policy  of  both  the  great  parties  in  the  State;  since 
botli  of  them  were  liable,  lie  thought,  to  be  enslaved 
by  claptrap  or  by  the  claims  of  faction.  With  him, 
it  has  been  said,  liberalism  was  not  a  creed,  but  a 
habit  of  mind.  Some  of  tlie  illustrations  of  modern 
liberalism  and  its  tendencies  whicli  were  afforded  in 
the  United  States  of  America  particularly  interested 
him.  His  first  impressions  before  visiting  that  coun- 
try wer(!  gathered  from  books  and  newspapers  alone, 
and  were  not  favourable.  He  said:  "Whereas  our 
society  in  Englaiul  distributes  itself  into  Uarbarians, 


AMERICA  257 

Philistines,  and  Populace,  America  is  just  ourselves, 
with  the  Barbarians  quite  left  out,  and  the  Populace 
nearly."  To  him,  it  thus  seemed  that  the  American 
community  formed  one  gigantic  middle  class,  with 
many  of  the  faults  which  he  had  so  often  and  so  un- 
mercifully exposed  in  the  British  Philistine.  He 
said  of  the  Americans  that  they  were  not  an  "in- 
teresting" people.  And  when,  after  much  delay  and-, 
hesitation,  he  determined  to  go  on  a  lecturing  tour 
in  America,  he  said  in  a  letter  to  me :  "  I  don't  like 
going.  I  don't  like  lecturing.  I  don't  like  living 
in  public,  and  I  wish  it  was  well  over.  I  shall  bei 
glad,  however,  to  see  an  American  common  school 
with  my  own  eyes."  In  fact,  he  saw  much  else  be- 
sides common  schools  in  his  two  visits  to  America. 
He  was  received  with  characteristic  warmth  and  kind- 
ness by  the  leading  men  in  the  States;  and  like  all 
others  who  have  crossed  the  Atlantic  and  been 
admitted  into  the  interior  of  many  beautiful  and  \ 
delightful  homes,  his  prejudices  were  greatly  softened,  \ 
and  his  admiration  for  the  enterprise,  the  bright  in- 
telligence, the  boundless  faith  in  the  future,  and  the 
splendour  of  the  public  institutions  which  character- 
ized America  and  her  people  was  greatly  increased. 
A  Word  more  about  America  and  Civilization  in  the 
United  States,  and  the  volumes  of  Discourses  in 
America  will  enable  a  reader  to  trace  the  gradual 
alteration  which  his  actual  transatlantic  experience 
produced,  and  will  account  for  the  warmth  with 
which  he  always  acknowledged  how  much  he  had 
learned  from  his  visits  to  the  States. 


258  MATTHEW   AUXOLD 

Of  the  personal  clianu  of  liis  maiuier,  of  the 
air  of  distinction  which  always  characterized  hijn, 
and  of  the  generosity  of  his  nature,  it  is  difficult  to 
convey  an  adequate  impression  to  those  who  did  not 
know  him  intimately.  Professor  Max  IMiiller  has 
said  of  him:  "lie  was  beautiful  as  a  young  man, 
strong  and  manly,  yet  full  of  dreams  and  schemes. 
His  Olympian  manners  began  even  at  Oxford;  there 
was  no  harm  in  them;  they  were  natural,  not  put  on. 
The  very  sound  of  his  voice  and  the  wave  of  his  arm 
were  Jove-like."  At  the  Council  Office,  his  colleagues 
were  wont  to  look  ui)ou  his  visits  as  Adam  and  Eve 
regarded  those  of  the  "affable  archangel"  when  he 
partook  of  their  simple  fare.  He  derived  genuine 
pleasure  from  any  favourable  recognition  of  his  liter- 
ary work.  If  he  thought  it  was  good  work,  he  would 
honestly  admire  it  himself,  and  would  not  stoop  to 
the  affectation  of  pretending  that  it  was  a  trifle,  or  of 
trying  to  extort  a  compliment  from  others  by  dis- 
paraging his  own  performance.  "  Have  you  read  that 
article  of  mine  in  the  Contemporary?"  he  would  say. 
"  Good,  isn't  it  ?  "  On  one  occasion  I  remember  that 
there  was  an  unusually  savage  and  contemptuous 
article  in  the  Saturday  Review  on  a  book  he  liad  just 
written.  Meeting  him  a  day  or  two  later,  he  said  to 
mo:  "Have  you  seen  tliat  article  about  my  book?" 
I  was  unable  to  iXvwy  that  I  hail  read  it.  imd  simply 
re[)lie(l  that  1  had  been  sori'V  to  read  what  was  so 
unfa.ir,  and  that.  I  hoped  it  had  not  vexed  him. 
"Why  should  it  vex  nui';*"  he  answered.  '*  \'ou  see 
one's  Irieiids  enjoy  these  things  so  nuich." 


MR.    JOHN   MORLEY'S   TRIBUTE  259 

Mr.  John  Morley  lias  ou  this  point  said  with  equal 
force  and  fairness :  "  It  is  true  that  Arnokl  talked, 
wrote,  aud  tlioiiglit  much  about  himself,  but  not 
really  much  more  than  most  other  men  and  women 
who  take  their  particular  work  and  purpose  in  life 
seriously  to  heart.  He  was  not  the  least  of  an  egotist 
in  the  common  ugly  and  odious  sense  of  that  terrible 
word.  He  was  incapable  of  sacrificing  the  smallest 
interest  of  anybody  to  his  own ;  he  had  not  a  spark 
of  envy  or  jealousy;  he  stood  well  aloof  from  all  the 
bustlings  and  jostlings  by  which  selfish  men  push  on ; 
he  bore  life's  disappointments  —  aud  he  was  disap- 
pointed in  some  reasonable  hopes  and  anticipations 
—  with  good-nature  and  fortitude ;  he  cast  no  burdens 
upon  others,  and  never  shrank  from  bearing  his  own 
share  of  the  daily  load,  to  the  last  ounce  of  it;  he 
took  the  deepest,  sincerest,  aud  most  active  interest 
in  the  well-being  of  his  country  and  his  countrymen. 
Is  it  not  absurd  to  think  of  such  a  man  as  an  egotist, 
simply  because  he  took  a  child's  pleasure  in  his  own 
performance  and  liked  to  know  that  somebody  else 
thought  well  of  his  poetry,  or  praised  his  lecture,  or 
laughed  at  his  wit  ?  "  ^ 

Mr.  Augustine  Birrell,  in  one  of  his  clever  and 
charming  essays,  shows  a  like  generous  and  discrimi- 
nating estimate  of  his  friend's  chief  characteristics. 
"  He  was  most  distinctly  on  the  side  of  human  enjoy=' 
ment.  He  conspired  and  contrived  to  make  things 
pleasant.  Pedantry  he  abhorred.  He  was  a  man  of 
this  life  and  this  world.  A  severe  critic  of  the  world 
1  Nineteenth  Century,  December,  1895. 


260  MATTHEW   AKNoLl) 

he  indeed  was,  but  tindiug  lumsoli  m  it,  and  nut 
precisely  knowing  wliat  is  beyond  it,  like  a  brave 
and  true-hearted  man  he  set  himself  to  make  the  best 
of  it.  Its  sights  and  sounds  were  dear  to  him.  The 
'uncrumpling  fern,'  the  'eternal  moon-lit  snow,' 
'Sweet  William  with  its  homely  cottage-smell,'  'the 
red  grouse  springing  at  our  sound,'  the  'tinkling 
bells'  of  the  'high-pasturing  kine,'  the  vagaries  of 
men,  women,  and  dogs,  their  odd  ways  and  tricks, 
whether  of  mind  or  manner,  all  delighted,  amused, 
tickled  him.  Human  loves,  joys,  sorrows,  human 
relationships,  ordinary  ties,  interested  him. 

"  The  help  in  strife, 
The  thousand  sweet  still  joys  of  such 
As  hand  in  hand  fiice  earthly  life." 

"  In  a  sense  of  the  words  which  is  noble  and  blessed, 
he  was  of  the  earth,  earthy.  ...  His  mind  was 
based  on  the  plainest  i)ossible  things.  What  he  hated 
most  was  the  fantastic, —  the  far-fetched,  all  elabo- 
rated fancies  and  strained  interpretations.  He  stuck 
to  the  beaten  track  of  human  experience,  and  the 
broader  the  better.  He  was  a  plain-sailing  man. 
This  is  his  true  note."  * 

Jowett,  the  Master  of  Balliol,  who  know  him  well, 
said  afterwards,  "  The  world  has  been  pleased  to  say 
many  comi)limentary  things  of  him  since  his  death, 
but  they  have  searcely  done  him  justice  because  they 
did  not  understand  his  serious  side  —  hard  work,  in- 

1  Bes  Judicata;,  w.  1G5-1(}7. 


ARNOLD'S   POEMS  261 

dependence,  aud  the  most  loving  and  careful   fulfil- 
ment of  all  the  duties  of  life."  ^ 

Another  comment,  that  of  a  later  poet,  Mr.  William 
Watson,  is,  though  from  a  different  point  of  view, 
worthy  to  be  remembered : 

"  It  may  be  overmuch 
He  shunned  the  common  stain  and  smutch, 
From  soilure  of  ignoble  touch 

Too  grandly  free, 
Too  loftily  secure  in  such 
Cold  purity. 
But  he  preserved  from  chance  control 
The  fortress  of  his  stablished  soul, 
In  all  things  sought  to  see  the  Whole ; 

Brooked  no  disguise, 
And  set  his  heart  upon  the  goal. 
Not  on  the  prize."  ^ 


dll  rest  \  ; 
gs.     In    K 


But,  after  all,  Arnold's  permanent  fame  will 
rather  on  his  poems  than  on  his  prose  writings 
the  coming  generations,  when  the  educational  politics 
of  our  day  shall  have  become  obsolete  aud  have  ceased 
to  interest  men;  when  the  ephemeral  literature,  the 
sociology,  and  the  personal  controversies  have  passed 
out  of  view,  his  name  will  stand  out  conspicuously 
Avith  those  of  Tennyson  and  Browning,  the  three  rep- 
resentative poets  of  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  The  future  historian  of  literature  who  seeks 
a  key  to  the  moral  condition  of  the  England  of  our 
time,  to  its  intellectual  unrest,   and  to  its  spiritual 

1  L\fe  of  Be7ijamin  Jov;ett,  Vol.  II.,  p.  338. 

2  In  Laleham  Churchyard. 


262  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

aims  and  tendencies,  will  find  it  liere.  Mattliew 
Arnold  will  never  be  a  popular  poet  in  tlie  ordi- 
nary sense  of  the  term.  He  has  not  the  smoothness, 
the  finish,  and  the  music  of  Tennyson,  and  does  not 
choose  for  the  subjects  of  his  verse  familiar  and 
superficially  attractive  topics.  Some  of  his  best 
work,  such  as  the  Strayed  Reveller  and  Empedodes  on 
Etna  and  Dejaneira,  presupposes  a  more  or  less  schol- 
arly acquaintance  with  classical  forms  and  modes  of 
thought  on  the  part  of  the  reader,  and  carries  him  into 
a  region  remote  from  modern  life  and  associations. 
To  many  of  his  metres,  too,  the  ear  of  the  average 
reader  is  not  yet  attuned.  In  fact,  he  does  not  spe- 
cially challenge  the  attention  of  average  readers  at 
all.  /His  ear  was  often  at  fault;  a  few  of  his  lines  are 
not  easy  to  read  aloud  or  to  scan.  And  even  in  poems 
which  are  full  of  beauty  aftd  of  noble  emotion,  one  is 
sometimes  irritated  by  such  cacophony  as  occurs  in 
the  final  line  of  the  sonnet  already  quoted : 

"Thou  mak'st  tlie  heaven  thou  liop'st  indeed  thy  home."' 

Moreover,  his  poems  are  for  the  most  part  overcast 
with  thought  which  at  least  is  serio\is  and  not  often 
exhilarating.  He  was  wont  to  say  that  for  the  higher 
purpose  of  literature  the  i)eople  required  joy.  But 
his  own  muse  was  somewhat  sombre  and  introspec- 
tive, and  he  was  heavily  weighted  with  a  sense  of  the 
mystery  and  gloom  and  disappointment  of  human 
life.  The  vastness  and  intricacy  of  the  problems 
which  yet  remain  unsolved,  and  our  inability  to  solve 

1  Sujini,  p.  2;!0. 


SERIOUSNESS   OF   HIS   MUSE  263 

them,    sometimes  oppressed  liim.     Of  England  and 
her  destiny  he  said : 

"  The  weary  Titan  with  deaf 
Ears  and  labour-dimmed  eyes, 
Regarding  neither  to  right 
Nor  left,  goes  passively  by 
Staggering  on  to  her  goal ; 
Bearing  on  shoulders  immense, 
Atlanteiin,  the  load 
Well-nigh  not  to  be  borne, 
Of  the  too  vast  orb  of  her  fate."  ^ 

Readers  of  In  Memoriam  and  of  Christmas  Eve  and 
Easter  Day  will  be  reminded,  as  they  take  up  Arnold's 
poems,  of  the  fact  that  all  three  —  Tennyson,  Brown- 
ing, and  Arnold  —  had  been  greatly  influenced  by  the 
modern  critical  spirit  in  relation  to  many  venerable 
and  consecrated  beliefs.  Yet  these  writers  did  not 
approach  modern  thought  and  speculation  in  the  same 
spirit.  There  is  in  Arnold  little  of  the  rather  help- 
less lament  over  an  unforgotten  but  irrecoverable 
belief,  such  as  is  to  be  found  in  In  Memoriam,  Avhere 
weak  faith  is  seen  trying  to  come  to  the  aid  of  weak 
doubt;  but  a  sane  and  manly  recognition  of  the  truth 
that  while  some  changes  in  the  form  of  men's  reli- 
gious life  are  inevitable,  the  spirit  and  the  power  of 
the  Christian  faith  are  sure  to  survive.  Nor  does 
Arnold  express  often  the  strong  scorn  for  some  of 
the  conventional  beliefs  which  shows  itself  not  less 
in  the  exasperating  ruggedness  of  Browning's  verse 
than  in  the  less  serious  scepticism  of  Shelley's  Queen 

1  Heine's  Grave. 


264  MATTHEW    AliNUl.D 

3lab.  In  such  poems  as  Obermann  mid  Staiaas 
from  the  Grand  Chartreuse  we  have  evideuee  of 
Arnokl's  oppressive  sense  of  the  burden  of  life,  and 
of  the  need  of  restfuluess,  affection,  and  calm. 

"Awhile  let  me  with  thought  have  done, 
And  as  this  briuim'd  uiiwriiikled  Rhine, 
And  that  for  ])uri)lc  mountain-Hne, 
Lie  sweetly  in  the  look  divine 
Of  tlic  slow-sinking  sun  : 

"  So  let  me  lie,  and,  calm  as  they, 
Let  beam  upon  my  inward  view 
Those  eyes  of  deep,  soft,  lucent  hue  — 
Eyes  too  expiessive  to  be  blue. 
Too  lovely  to  be  grey. 

"Ah  !  Quiet,  all  things  feel  thy  balm  ! 
Those  blue  hills  too,  this  river's  flow, 
Were  restless  once,  but  long  ago. 
Tamed  is  their  turbulent  youthful  glow ; 
Their  joy  is  in  their  calm."  ^ 

His  appreciation  of  Wordsworth  was  not  confined 
to  such  criticism  as  we  have  already  quoted,  but 
expressed  itself  gracefully  in  verse. 

"  Raised  arc  the  dripping  oars. 
Silent  the  boat !  —  the  lake. 
Lovely  and  soft  as  a  dream. 
Swims  in  the  sheen  of  the  moon. 
The  mountains  stand  at  its  head 
Clear  in  tlie  pure  June  night, 
Rut  the  valleys  are  Hooded  with  haze. 
Rydal  and  Fairfield  are  there ; 

1  On  t/,r  li/iinr. 


THE    WORDS WORTHIAN   SPIRIT  265 

In  tlie  shadow  Wordsworth  lies  dead. 
So  it  is,  so  it  will  be  for  aye. 
Nature  is  fresh  as  of  old, 
Is  lovely  ;  a  mortal  is  dead. 

"  The  spots  which  recall  him  survive, 

For  he  lent  a  new  life  to  these  hills. 

The  Pillar  still  broods  o'er  the  fields 

Which  border  Ennerdale  Lake, 

And  Egremont  sleeps  by  the  sea. 

The  gleam  of  The  Evening  Star 

Twinkles  on  Grasmere  no  more, 

But  ruin'd  and  solemn  and  grey 

The  sheepfold  of  Michael  survives  ; 

And,  far  to  the  south,  the  heath 

Still  blows  in  the  Quantock  coombs, 

By  the  favourite  waters  of  Ruth. 

These  survive  —  yet  not  without  pain, 

Pain  and  dejection  to-night. 

Can  I  feel  that  their  poet  is  gone, 

*  *  *  * 

"  Well  may  we  mourn  w'heu  the  head 

Of  a  sacred  poet  lies  low 

In  an  age  which  can  rear  them  no  more  ! 

The  complaining  millions  of  men 

Darken  in  labour  and  pain  ; 

But  he  was  a  priest  to  us  all 

Of  the  wonder  and  bloom  of  the  world, 

Which  we  saw  with  his  eyes,  and  were  glad. 

He  is  dead,  and  the  fruit-bearing  day 

Of  liis  race  is  past  on  the  earth  ; 

And  darkness  returns  to  our  eyes."  ^ 

That  he  had  caught  the  spirit  of  Wordsworth  is 
manifest  in  many  of  his  poems.     The  experiences  of 
1  The  Youth  of  Nature. 


266  MATTHEW   ARNOLD 

a  starry  night,  his  solemn  musings  on  the  magnitude 
and  richness  of  the  visible  world,  had  a  tranquillizing 
effect  upon  him.     For  example : 

"  'Ah,  once  more,'  I  cried,  'ye  stars,  ye  waters, 
On  my  lieart  your  mighty  charm  renew ; 
Still,  still  let  me,  as  I  gaze  upon  you 
Feel  my  soul  becoming  vast  like  you  ! ' 

"  From  the  intense,  clear,  star-sown  vault  of  heaven. 
Over  the  lit  sea's  unquiet  way, 
In  the  rustling  night  air  c<ame  the  answer : 
'Would'st  thou  be  as  these  are?     Live  as  they.' 

"  Unaffrightcd  by  tlie  silence  round  them, 
Undistracted  by  the  sights  they  sec, 
These  demand  not  that  the  things  witliout  them 
Yield  them  love,  amusement,  sympathy. 

"  And  with  joy  the  stars  perform  tlieir  shining, 
And  the  .sea  its  long  moon-silver'd  roll  : 
For  self  poised  they  live,  nor  pine  with  noting 
All  the  fever  of  some  differing  soul. 

"Bounded  by  tiieniselvos,  and  unregardful 
In  what  state  God's  other  works  may  be. 
In  their  own  tasks  all  their  powere  pouring. 
These  attain  the  mighty  life  you  see." 

"0  air-bom  voice  !  long  since,  severely  clear, 
A  cry  like  thine  in  mine  own  heart  I  hear ; 
'Resolve  to  be  thyself,  and  know  that  he 
Who  finds  himself,  loses  his  misery  !  "" 

Examples  of  his  narrative^  ]>ower  are  best  shown  in 
liis  story  of  Sohrab  and  liustum  and  in  Tristram  ami 

1  Self-dependence. 


STANZAS   FROM   THE   GRANDE   CHARTREUSE     267 

Iseult.  His  lyric  poems,  notably  Philomela  and  the 
Fragment  of  an  'Antigone,'  show  how  thoroughly  satu- 
rated his  mind  was  with  Greek  thought  and  traditions, 
and  how  admirably  he  could  unite  the  sensibility  and 
intellectual  experience  of  a  modern  Englishman  with 
the  luminousness  and  simplicity  which  characterized 
the  forms  of  Greek  poesy.  His  Merope  is,  with  the 
possible  exception  of  Mr.  Swinburne's  Atalanta  in 
Calydon,  the  best  reproduction  since  Samson  Agonistes 
of  both  the  spirit  and  the  form  of  the  Greek  tragedy, 
its  ethical  purpose,  its  massive  dignity,  and  the 
solemn,  overhanging  sense  of  the  greatness  of  man's 
destiny,  whether  seen  in  warring  against  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, or  even  in  being  subdued  by  them. 

One  extract  more  will  serve  to  illustrate  his  descrip- 
tive power.  It  was  suggested  by  his  visit  to  the  great 
Carthusian  monastery  in  Switzerland, 

STANZAS   FROM  THE   GRANDE   CHARTREUSE 

The  silent  courts  where  night  and  day 

Into  their  stone-carved  basins  cold 

The  splashing  icy  fountains  ijlay ; 

The  humid  corridors  behold  ! 

Where,  ghostlike  in  the  deepening  night, 

Cowl'd  forms  brush  by  in  gleaming  white. 

The  chapel  where  no  organ's  peal 
Invests  the  stern  and  naked  prayer  — 
With  penitential  cries  they  kneel 
And  wrestle ;  rising  then,  with  bare 
And  white  uplifted  faces  stand, 
Passinff  the  Host  from  hand  to  hand : 


268  MATTHEW    A1{X(»LD 

Each  takes,  and  tlien  lii.s  visage  waa 
Is  buried  in  his  cowl  once  more. 
The  cells  !  —  the  suttering  Son  of  Man 
Upon  the  wall !  —  the  kuee-worn  floor  — 
And  where  they  sleep,  that  wooden  bed, 
Which  shall  their  coflin  be  when  dead  ! 

The  library  where  tract  and  tome 
Not  to  feed  priestly  pride  are  there, 
To  liyinn  the  conquering  march  of  Piome, 
Nor  yet  to  anuise,  as  ours  are  ! 
They  paint  of  souls  the  inner  strife. 
Their  drops  of  blood,  their  death  in  life. 

The  garden  overgrown  —  yet  mild  ; 
See,  fragrant  herbs  are  flowering  there  ! 
Strong  children  of  the  Alpine  wild 
Whose  culture  is  tlie  brethren's  care ; 
Of  human  tasks  their  only  one. 
And  cheerful  works  beneath  the  sun. 

No  just  estimate  of  Matthew  Arnold's  influence  on 
English  education  is  possible  without  taking  into  due 
account  his  position  and  work  in  the  outside  world, 
and  especially  in  the  world  of  letters,  lie  himself 
would  have  been  the  first  to  admit  that  i)ublic  educa- 
tion, important  as  it  is,  was  only  one  of  the  interests, 
and  not  the  paramount  interest  of  bis  life.  Vet 
it  is  surely  not  a  small  episode  in  the  history  of 
education  in  England  that  for  thirty  years,  one  of  the 
chief  administrative  ottices  in  the  lUireau  of  public 
instruction  should  have  been  filled  by  one  of  her  most 
illustrious  poets.  Unconsciously  and  indirectly  his 
influence  over  his  colleagues,  over  the  teachers,  and 


THE   TWO   ARNOLDS  269 

over  the  children  was  all  the  greater  because  he  was 
a  poet;  for  he  saw  them  all  with  the  clear  and  pene- 
trating eye  of  genius  and  not  with  that  of  a  pedant 
or  a  merely  industrious  official.  For  example,  some 
readers  of  his  latest  foreign  report  Avere  a  little  puz- 
zled to  interpret  a  sentence  in  which  he  said  of  some 
German  schools,  "  Again  and  again  I  find  written  in 
my  notes,  The  children  are  human."  It  is  not  of  course 
to  be  supposed  that  he  meant  to  imply  that  in  English 
schools  the  children  were  not  human;  but  ouly  that 
speaking  as  a  poet,  he  recognized  in  some  German 
schools  the  presence  of  other  influences  than  those 
of  ordinary  lessons,  the  freedom  and  the  naturalness 
which  can  come  only  from  a  true  sympathy  between 
teacher  and  taught. 

He  rests  in  the  quiet  graveyard  of  Laleham,  close 
to  his  early  home,  side  by  side  with  his  three  sons, 
Thomas,  Basil,  and  Trevenen,  and  a  little  grandchild. 
Over  him  is  the  inscription :  — 

There  is  S2)rung  iqi  a  light  for  the  righteous  and 
joyful  gladness  for  such  as  are  true-hearted. 

Thus  it  has  been  attempted  to  show  that  Thomas 
and  Matthew  Arnold,  father  and  son,  have  both  played 
a  conspicuous  and  influential  part  in  the  improvement 
of  English  education  and  in  the  shaping  of  English 
thought.  They  did  this  in  different  ways.  They 
approached  the  educational  problem  from  very  differ- 
ent points  of  yiew.  One  saw  it  with  the  eyes  of  a 
poet  and  a  philosopher,  the  other  with  those  of  an 
earnest  Christian   teacher  and   moralist.     But   they 


270  MATTllKW    AKNOLI) 

were  alike  in  many  respects.  To  both  the  formation 
of  character  was  an  object  of  more  importance  than 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  To  both  it  seemed 
that  "conduct  was  three-fourths  of  life."  Both  were 
disposed  to  measure  a  man  or  boy  rather  by  what  he 
is  than  by  what  he  believes  and  knows.  Both  believed 
in  the  supreme  importance  of  letters,  language,  and 
the  discipline  of  thought  as  the  instruments  for  attain- 
ing the  desired  end.  Both  attached  high  value  to 
religious  and  moral  training;  but  neither  identified 
that  training  with  the  enforcement  of  human  formu- 
laries and  creeds.  To  both  it  seemed  that  reverence 
for  the  past  and  a  sympathetic  acquaintance  with  the 
best  that  has  been  written  and  thought  in  the  world 
constituted  the  most  valuable  preparation  a  scholar 
could  have  for  his  present  duties  and  for  his  future 
development.  To  both  the  attainments  which  helped 
a  man  to  live  a  noble  and  intelligent  life  wei-e  of 
higher  value  than  those  which  helped  him  to  '  get  a 
living, '  however  successfully.  Both  tried  to  emanci- 
pate themselves  from  whatever  hindrances  conven- 
tional and  traditional  modes  of  thinking  placed  in 
the  way  of  a  fearless  pursuit  of  truth. 

It  must  be  owned  that  both  set  before  themselves  a 
higher  ideal  than  any  we  have  yet  attained,  aiul  that 
we  are  following  after  it  with  halting  and  feeble 
steps.  But  if  either  now  or  in  the  days  to  come 
our  great  public  schools  assume  a  higher  tone,  and 
our  whole  system  of  national  instruction  is  organized 
on  a  noble  and  enduring  basis;  if  commercial  pros- 
perity is  no  longer  licld  by  an}'  of  us  to  satisfy  the 


RUGBY   CHAPEL  271 

claims  of  the  spiritual  and  social  life ;  if  the  stauclard 
of  literary  excellence  becomes  more  exalted  and  more 
pure;  and  if  the  splendid  triumphs  of  physical  science 
do  not  succeed  in  beguiling  us  into  a  neglect  of  the 
older  and  humaner  studies, —  the  future  historian  will 
be  able  to  attribute  these  results  in  large  measure  to 
the  influence  of  the  two  Arnolds.  For  each  of  them 
in  his  own  way  sought  to  illuminate  the  conscience 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  to  make  them  profoundly 
discontented  with  what  was  mediocre  and  unreal  in 
their  lives  and  in  their  literature,  and  to  enlarge  their 
conception  of  a  liberal  education  so  that  it  should 
include  not  book-learning  only,  but  "whatsoever 
things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  what- 
soever things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure, 
whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  whatsoever  things 
are  of  good  report." 

The  characters  of  both  men  are  well  revealed  in 
these  extracts  from  a  memorable  poem  which  the  son 
wrote  in  Xovember,  1867,  on  visiting  the  scene  of 
his  father's  work. 


RUGBY   CHAPEL 

0  strong  soul,  by  what  shore 
Tarriest  thou  now  ?     For  that  force, 
Surely,  has  not  been  left  vain  ! 
Somewhere,  surely,  afar, 
In  the  souHfling  labour-house  vast 
Of  being,  is  practised  that  strength, 
Zealous,  beneficent,  firm  ! 


272  MATTHEW    ARNOLD 

i 

Yes,  in  some  far-.sliiniiig  sphere, 

Conscious  or  not  of  the  past,  ; 

Still  thou  pcrformest  the  word  ! 

Of  the  Spirit  in  whom  thou  dost  live  —  ' 

Prompt,  unwearied,  as  here  ! 

Still  thou  upraisest  with  zeal 

Tlie  humble  good  from  the  ground. 

Sternly  ropresscst  the  bad  ! 

Still,  like  a  trumpet,  dost  rouse 

Those  who  with  half-open  eyes  \ 

Tread  the  border-land  dim 

'Twixt  vice  and  virtue  ;  reviv'st,  i 

Succourest  I  —  this  was  thy  work, 

This  was  thy  life  upon  earth. 

*  *  *  * 

If,  in  the  paths  of  the  world. 
Stones  might  have  wounded  thy  feet, 
Toil  or  dejection  have  tried 
Thy  spirit,  of  that  we  saw 
Nothing  —  to  us  thou  wast  still 
Cheerful,  and  helpful,  and  firm  ! 
Therefore  to  thee  it  was  given 
Many  to  .save  with  thy.self ; 
And,  at  the  end  of  thy  day, 
0  faithful  shepherd  !  to  come, 
Bringing  thy  sliecji  in  thy  hand. 

And  through  thee  I  believe 

In  the  noble  and  great  who  are  gone; 

Pure  souls  honour'd  and  blest 

By  former  ages,  who  else  — 

Such,  so  soulless,  so  poor, 

Is  the  race  of  men  whom  I  see  — 

Seem'd  but  a  dream  of  the  heart, 

Seem'd  but  a  cry  of  desire. 

Yes  !  I  believe  that  there  lived 


RUGBY   CHAPEL 

Others  like  thee  in  the  past, 
Not  like  the  men  in  the  crowd 
Who  all  round  nie  to-day 
Bluster  or  cringe,  and  make  life 
Hideous,  and  arid,  and  vile ; 
But  souls  temper'd  with  fire, 
Fervent,  heroic,  and  good, 
Helpers  and  friends  of  mankind. 

Servants  of  God  !  or  sons, 
Shall  I  not  call  you  1  because 
Not  as  servants  ye  knew 
Your  Father's  innermost  mind, 
His,  who  unwillingly  sees 
One  of  his  little  ones  lost  — 
Yours  is  the  praise,  if  mankind 
Hath  not  as  yet  in  its  march 
Fainted,  and  fallen,  and  died  ! 

See  !     In  the  rocks  of  the  world 
Marches  the  host  of  mankind, 
A  feeble,  wavering  line. 
Where  are  they  tending  ?     A  God 
Marshall'd  them,  gave  them  their  goal. 
Ah  !  but  the  way  is  so  long  ! 
Years  they  have  been  in  the  wild  ! 
Sore  thirst  plagues  them,  the  rocks. 
Rising  all  round,  overawe  ; 
Factions  divide  them,  their  host 
Threatens  to  break,  to  dissolve. 
—  Ah,  keep,  keep  them  combined  ! 
Else,  of  tlie  myriads  who  fill 
That  army,  not  one  shall  arrive ; 
Sole  they  shall  stray ;  in  the  rocks 
Stagger  for  ever  in  vain, 
Die  one  by  one  in  the  waste. 


274  MATTHEW    AKNoLD 

Then,  in  such  hour  of  need 
Of  your  fainting,  dispirited  race, 
Ye,  like  angels,  appear. 
Radiant  with  ardour  divine  ! 
Beacons  of  hope,  ye  appear ! 
Languor  is  not  in  your  heart, 
Weakness  is  not  in  your  word, 
Weariness  not  on  your  brow. 
Yc  alight  in  our  van  !  at  your  voice 
Panic,  despair  flee  away. 
Ye  move  through  the  ranks,  recall 
The  stragglers,  refresh  the  outworn, 
Praise,  re-inspire  the  brave  ! 
Order,  courage,  return. 
Eyes  rekindling,  and  prayers, 
Follow  your  steps  as  you  go. 
Ye  fill  uj)  the  gaps  in  our  files. 
Strengthen  the  wavering  line, 
Stablish,  continue  our  march. 
On,  to  the  bound  of  the  waste, 
On,  to  the  City  of  God. 


^^E    LIBRA, 

(university 
\^.cauf«rn^ 


/ 


INDEX 


Academy,  the  French,  242. 

America,  257. 

American  secular  schools,  210. 

Aristotle,  7,  35,  103. 

Avnokl,  Matthew,  his  estimate  of 
his  father,  150;  his  life  and 
letters,  158 ;  his  appointment 
to  an  inspectorship,  159;  his 
letters,  KiO;  his  work  as  in- 
spector, 1G7  ;  his  foreign  jour- 
neys, 200;  his  reports,  210;  his 
literary  criticisms,  241 ;  his 
poems,  250. 

Arnold,  Thomas,  his  parentage 
and  early  life,  3;  school,  4,  9; 
the  University,  4,  11,  15,  1(5; 
Laleham,  18;  his  aims  and 
studies,  19;  election  to  Rugby, 
22;  his  scheme  of  school  work, 
33;  his  relation  to  his  staff, 
71;  his  preaching,  84;  his  fa- 
vourite pursuits,  110;  his  de- 
light in  nature,  113;  Oxford 
controversies,  138;  lectures, 
148 ;  death,  149. 

Ascham,  .30. 

Assistant  masters,  69. 

Athletics,  103. 

Bacon,  45,  49,  52. 

Barbarians,  the,  221. 

Biblical  teaching  in  the  common 

schof>l,  194. 
Biography,  2,  59. 
Birkbeck,  Dr.,  125. 
Birrell,   Mr.   Augustine,   quoted, 

251). 
Bowyer,  4G. 

Boyle,  Dean,  quoted,  153,  167. 
Bradley,  Dean,  155. 
British  history,  early,  63. 
Bronte,  Charlotte,  251. 


Brown's,  Tom,  School  Days,  104. 
Brougham,  Lord,  124,  126. 
Browning,  6. 
Browning,  Mr.  Oscar,  quoted,  66, 

103. 
Buckland,  Mr.,  of  Laleham,  18. 
Burke,  250. 
Busby,  30. 
Butler,  Bishop,  12. 
Byron,  246. 

Campbell,  Thomas,  and  the 
London  University,  126. 

Carlyle,  2,  66,  107. 

Christian  Knowledge  Society,  130. 

Church,  Dean,  136,  142,  147. 

Cicero,  46,  65. 

Civil  service  examinations,  207. 

Classical  studies  vindicated,  35. 

Clerical  schoolmasters,  97. 

Clongh,  A.  H.,  83,  248. 

Coleridge,  Mr.  Justice,  8,  10. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  6,  7,  46,  55,  141, 
246. 

Colet,  Dean,  26. 

Comenius,  30. 

Competitive  examinations,  218. 

Composition  exercises,  38. 

Construing,  43. 

Continental  schools,  213. 

Copleston,  16. 

Cowardice,  87. 

Cowper,  6. 

Crabbe,  6. 

Criticism  and  its  functions,  242. 

Darwin,  52. 
Davison,  16. 
Delafield,  Miss,  3. 
Democracy,  203. 
Demosthenes,  45,  46. 
De  Tocqueville,  202. 


275 


276 


INDEX 


Diffusion  of   Fsefiil  Knowledj^c, 

The  Society  for,  125,  128,  13(t. 
Dryden,  G,  246. 

Edinburgh  Review,  72,  148. 
Eiidt)wmeuts,  in  France,  215. 
English  literature  studies,  4<i. 
Eiiglishinan's  Register,  the,  122. 
Euglisli  society,  221. 
Erasmus,  25,  142. 
Eton,  A  French,  208,  211. 
Examinations,  217. 
Expulsion,  83. 

Farrar,    Dean,    on    Greek    and 

Latin  versiticatiou,  3',». 
Foreign  schools,  201. 
Foreign  travel.  111. 
Formative  studies,  183. 
Forster,  Mr.  W.  E.,  153. 
France,  205. 
Fuller  quoted,  72. 

Gabell,  Dr.,  of  Winchester,  10. 

Geography,  its  bearing  on  his- 
tory, G7. 

Germany,  204. 

Goddard,  Dr.,  of  Winchester,  10. 

Governing  bodies,  73. 

Grammar  in  the  elementary 
school,  185. 

Gray,  248. 

Griffiths,  Dr.,  of  AVarminster,  9. 

Grindal,  Archbishop,  founder  of 
St.  Bees,  28. 

Grote,  George,  quoted,  104. 

Guizot  as  education  niini.ster,  209. 

Hampden,  R.  D.,  Bishop  of  Here- 
ford, 1(5,  i;«). 
Hawkins,  Dr.,  IG,  22. 
Healing,  Mr.,  quoted,  173. 

cine,  205. 

iTodotus,  7,  -15,  (;7. 

islory,  tlic  teacliing  of,  54,  G4. 

..Hand,  214. 

ome  di.scii)line,  117. 

omer,  4G,  245. 


Hooker,  12,45,  143. 

Horace,  G5. 

Howe,  Lord,  73. 

Howson,  Dean,  of  Chester,  154. 

Hughes,  Tliomas,  quoted,  2G,  41, 

82. 
Humour,  254. 
Huxley,  52,  187. 
Hymns,  2:55. 

Inspector,  the  office  of,  168, 
182. 

Intellectual  cultivation  a  reli- 
gious duty,  89. 

Isaiah  as  a  school-book,  195. 

Jowett,  143,  155,  2t)0. 
Juvenal,  G5. 

Kay  Sliuttleworth,  1.52. 
Kel)le,  John,  l(i,  21,  23,  237. 
Knight,  Charles,  125. 

Laleham,  17. 

Latin  in  the  elementary  school, 

ISG. 
Laurie,  Professor,  quoted,  GO. 
Learning  by  heart,  183. 
Livy.  7,  G5. 
Locke,  30. 
Lockyer,  .52. 

London  University,  12G,  131. 
Louis,  St.,  of  France,  G5. 
Luther,  142. 

Macaulay,  2.52. 
Marcus  Aurelius,  244. 
M<-clianics' Institute.  121, 12,"..  i:il. 
Memory  exercises,  185. 
Milton,     249;     his     ediuational 

theories.  .'(0. 
M(.l)crly,  Dr.,  7G,  154,  158. 
Modern  ;ind  ani'ient  history,  57. 
Montaisiuc,  qu-.ted.  11. 
iMural  evils  in  scIi.m.Is,  77. 
Morley,  Mr.  John,  quoted,  259. 
Mo/ley,  J.  B.,  quoted,  139. 


277 


Napoleon,  65,  67. 
Xaturkunde,  187. 
Nelson,  5. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  136,  237. 
Niebuhr,  19,  62,  67. 
Nonconformists,  224. 

Oriel,  Fellows  of,  15,  16. 
Oxford,  7,  16. 

Oxford  Malignants,  the,  138. 
Oxford  movement,  the,  135. 

Paley's  evidences,  12. 

Paul's,  St.,  School,  statutes,  29. 

Pedagogy, 191. 

Percival,  Bishop,  quoted,  108. 

Pestalozzi,  30. 

Philistines,  the,  223. 

Poetrj',  learning  of,  185. 

Politics,  121. 

Polybius,  65,  66. 

Poor,  intercourse  with  the,  119. 

Pope,  6. 

Price,  Mr.  Bonamy,  17. 

Professorship  of  modern  history, 

147. 
Public  and  private  schools,  8,  93, 

231. 
Punishments,  101. 
Puritanism,  225. 
Pusey,  E.  B.,  135. 

Religious  teaching,  84. 

Roman  history,  63. 

Rousseau,  30. 

Rugby  Chapel,  271. 

Rugby  School,  Arnold's  appoint- 
ment to  the,  22 ;  mastership, 
22;  its  history,  25. 

Russell,  Mr.  G.  E.,  quoted,  253. 

Sainte-Beuve,  243. 

Schools,  endowed  grammar,  25. 

Science,  physical,  its  educational 
claims,  52. 

Scott,  Sir  W.,  6. 

Scripture  at  the  London  Uni- 
versity, 133. 


Sermons,  84. 

Shakespeare,  46. 

Sheffield  Courant,  the,  123. 

Sheriff,    Lawrence,    founder    of 

Rugby  School,  25. 
Socratic  questioning,  50. 
Soreze,  the  school  at,  212. 
Southey,  6. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  53. 
Stanley,  Bishop,  142. 
Stanley,  Dean,  as  a  biographer, 

2  ;  as  a  school-boy,  32,  62. 
Storr,  Mr.  Francis,  quoted,  48. 
Sunday  services  and  studies,  21. 
Switzerland  and  its  schools,  214. 

Tacitus,  35,  56. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  12. 

Tennyson,  6,  12,  251,  263. 

Thring,  Edward,  quoted,  47. 

Thucydides,  7,  55. 
j  Times,  tlie  newspaper,  255  ;  trib- 
ute to  Arnold's  memory,  155. 
I  Toulouse,  the  Lyceum  at,  211. 

Tracts  for  the  Times,  136,  145. 

Traditions,  school,  94. 

Trafalgar,  5. 

Translation  v.  Construing,  44. 

Unsectariau   religious    teaching, 
194. 

Vacation  reading  parties,  118. 
Versification,  39. 

Welldon,  Mr.  J.  E.  C,   quoted, 

79. 
Whateley,  Archbishop,  16. 
Wight,   Isle   of,    Arnold's    early 

home,  5. 
Winchester,  9. 

Wooll,  Dr.,  of  Rugby,  21,  26. 
Worboise,  Miss  E.  ,J.,  3. 
Wordsworth,  6,  246. 
Wykeham  and  Wykehamists,  9. 

Xenophon,  7. 


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